4.15 pm yesterday, Thursday, June 25th, 2009 I got the news. Nearly 2 hours too late, facebook was already filled with people in shock, saddened and yet happy that he finally has found his peace after a life so full of success and failure it became a kind of myth, the legend of a genius of our time. In his last moment people forget about the tragedy named Micheal Jackson, the blows that fame, money, media and human weakness have sent him so they can remember a sweet child, and a gentle adult who sang for the poor, the weak, the earth, who called for a little bit of peace and hope and love in the turmoil of war and violence. His music have inpired generations, his fame went beyond boundaries. Whether you have listened to his music or not, you know his name. Every genius seems to have some kind of eccentricity and Michael Jackson has taken maybe more than his share of otherness. Yet, on this one afternoon, amongst the many statuses that contain his name on facebbok, I see less curiosity about his latest scandal, less sneer about his skin and nose, and more, so much more personal memories. Off the frontpage of magazines and newspapers, what people remember are moments in life when his music helped connect them to other people.
Long long time ago, 5 young girls sang Heal The World, their English sounding like Vietnamese, and we did not even know, then, that it was his song...
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