Thrilled 'til the end.

It was the summer of 1984.

During that summer, our family traveled to Virginia for a family reunion of sorts with relatives descending from my dad's side of the tree. I was fourteen, and the oldest of my two sisters, Stephanie and Tonya. We were leaving Texas and seeing the East coast again. Although reaching our family reunion required several hours strapped beneath uncomfortable seat belts---not to mention, at that time, no DVDs or iPods--- we were still extremely excited about the miles ahead. If fuel was not a factor, our father could mercilessly drive from California to Boston without stopping. Years ago when that crazy astronaut lady drove to Florida wearing a diaper, the news outlets were shocked. Whatever. My dad had needed no diaper. I was convinced pops only required the use of facilities twice during any road trip: before leaving and after arriving. My mom, sisters and I were obviously built from a different cloth. Despite the torture to be endured, we promised not to complain and be the greatest travel companions since the Hebrew slaves were led from Egypt. But, there was something there for personal gain. Our good behavior was a bargaining chip. If fulfilled, our father would buy the three of us something very special while on that vacation. Something we wanted more than anything in the world at that time: The Making of Thriller on VHS.

We had an incredible trip, reuniting with family and spending time at the beach, but I cannot explain the joy upon our return home. Once home, another vacation began. The VHS tape was the first item unpacked and went immediately into the player. By that time, I'd probably seen the full version of Thriller once or twice---on NBC's Friday Night Videos; the other from a classmate's VHS recording at school during lunch. Both times I was amazed. This video was stuff no one had ever created, or even thought about doing. Basically, it was a mini-movie. A mini-movie with dancing and music. The epitome of our MTV generation. It was pure magic. Greatness bottled in thirteen minutes. More importantly now, we actually owned it and could watch anytime. No staying up late for USA Night Flight or patiently sitting through David Bowie videos on MTV. Owned it! Not only the video, but we also owned all the the behind the scene footage detailing everything A to Z in creating Thriller.

When our parents returned to work the following days, my sisters and I dove head first into our new VHS treasure. We watched The Making of Thriller 24/7, from the time we got out of bed until the time we fell asleep in the living room watching. Non-stop. Needless to say, by week's end, we knew the tape cassette inside and out. Seriously. Not just the video, but the ENTIRE VHS tape. Everything from the dialogue to the arrangement of archive footage chronicling Michael Jackson's career. More importantly, we knew every Thriller dance step, having transformed the living room into our own private dance studio. Without a single slip up, we could reenact the entire Thriller video from beginning to end---from the car running out of gas to the zombies to chasing Ola Ray into the condemned house to the final Vincent Price laugh. Not one move was lost on us. It was Thriller, and Michael Jackson was brilliant.

Now, let me explain before we go on, I was not a Michael Jackson fan. At least compared on the grand scheme of Michael Jackson fandom. I did not own a poster, wear a glove, nor did I record every appearance on award shows. The popular music most people listened to wasn't exactly what I was listened to. But, there was something about Michael Jackson's music and videos that slowly swayed my convictions. The first time I heard a song from Michael Jackson's Thriller was at my grandparent's house. My cousin Dewayne had the cassette tape. His jam of choice was the Paul McCartney duo, The Girl is Mine. I thought it was cheesy. First, of all, Michael and Paul fighting over a girl? Come on. Then, it happened. Slowly but surely, the music soaked through my being as my cousin repeatedly played the track on his jam box. I couldn't escape it, nor did I wish to. Thirty minutes later, I could sing every word. Because he had the "home field" advantage, I relinquished and happily played Paul to his Michael---but he knew at my house, the roles would reverse. To this day, some of the happiest moments of my life included singing that silly song while pretending to fight over some stuffed animal.

Thursday, June 25th 2009, will always be a special day for my family. On that day, we welcomed into the world our son, Miles Robinson, thirty-five minutes after midnight. Several hours later in another part of the world, two icons of pop culture would say goodbye---Farrah Faucet and Michael Jackson. Who woulda thunk it? Two huge icons of the entertainment world. Even after Cameron Diaz and Drew Barrymore, no one can say 'Charlie's Angels' without first thinking Farrah. I was barely six years old when her image became commonplace for every adolescent boys' bedroom wall. Very young, but not young enough to realize she was something special when I first saw the poster in my friend's older brother's room. Back then, girls were gross; they were the to be left alone. Gross. This "girl" on the poster was something different; and I stared at the poster every time I visited. Sadly, we all knew Farrah would lose her battle with the disease. The news of her passing that afternoon still left us all a little shocked. To this day, her role in The Burning Bed is one of the best performances captured on film.

About two years ago, I inadvertently introduced our daughter Harper to Michael Jackson. Taking a page out of the book of bad parenting, I tried scaring my daughter to behave by playing the Thriller video on my iTunes. I think, I told her if she did not behave... My plan miserably backfired. Stemming from my genes, I should have known. She was a little over a year old and completely mesmerized. Completely enthralled. We watched the Thriller video about thirty times that day. She called it "Bad Kitty" and today she still does. Over the past two years, she and I have watched the video---I'd be willing to bet---over 5,000 times. Everyday. Four or five times a day. Months ago, before our first trip to the movie theater with Harper, we tried desperately to explain what to expect and how to behave in the theater. We explained how it would be dark; how she should not speak loudly; how the movie would play on a big screen; etc. Still, no matter how eloquent we could not truly describe the experience to better prepare her, we thought. While we beat our heads together, she rolled her eyes and said, "Like Michael Jackson on 'Bad Kitty'?" Um, yeah, like Michael Jackson on 'Bad Kitty'. The mark he left through his talent stretched across people of all ages, all colors and all boundaries.

Honestly, I will miss Michael Jackson. His music touched my life and the lives of so many people. Whether you liked him or not, or find the last recent tributes unnecessary, you cannot deny the mark Michael Jackson left on the landscape of our pop culture. Certainly there are others---veterans, teachers, police officers, physicians, parents, etc---who deserve greater eulogies; and some who believe Michael Jackson's legacy will be forever tainted by his faults, allegations and everything we did not understand but simply labeled 'Wacko Jacko'. Still, I will miss him. For nearly fifty years, Michael Jackson entertained the world. I will be forever grateful for his ability to bridge gaps between the generations through his talents. Today, some parents groan when taking their children to see Miley Cyrus or Jonas Brother. My parents would have loved taking me to see Michael Jackson, just as I would have loved, and hoped in 2011, to accompany Harper. It is not the day music died, June 25th, but it is definitely the day we collectively pushed the pause button. Don't worry, the music will continue shortly---much influenced by the icon we lost days ago. Meanwhile, pull out that sequined white glove and cue my favorite Rock With You.