Sadly, Farrah Fawcett lost her battle with cancer yesterday. She was a brave, dignified, talented and classy lady. Right up until the end.
I know it was the teenage boys that were swooning over that famous red bathing suit poster tacked up on walls all over the country. But, seriously, what teenage girl didn't want to be one of Charlie's Angels and strike that pose?
You shall be missed.
And then the blow of Michael Jackson.
My God, you were a talent and a gift. An über star. The King of Pop is what they called you.
Thriller was the first album I ever owned. Many memories were created with that cassette, blasting from my Panasonic Boom-box in my backyard by the pool in the summer of '83. We mimicked your moonwalk, we grabbed our crotches. We danced. We sang. We did the "kick". You were cool.
I wore that poor cassette out. I think it finally gave out, shredding from over use.
My personal favorite on the album. Beat it.
In junior-high, I roller skated on the weekends to Billy Jean, Don't Stop Till You Get Enough and PYT. In high school, I did many a cheerleading routine to your songs.
And Thriller introduced me to music video.
I smile for the adorable, talented and charismatic 5 year old on stage, with his brightly colored outfits and obvious sparkle in his eye. He had the it-factor. That smile, those eyes, that voice.
But I am sad for the impossible and violent childhood he must have had to endure. Sad for the man he never got to become as a result of being trapped in that same childhood.
All the freakish surgeries, all the allegations, all the strange behavior seems to point to a tormented man.
But, tormented no longer. Hopefully at peace.
Enjoy Neverland Michael. You earned it. You Rocked!