This Is It? I doubt it!

I had high expectations of the new Michael Jackson concert documentary, This Is It, though anything related to MJ would be the coolest thing ever in my eyes.  It was the closest I ever came to seeing him live in concert, because when he and his brothers went on the Victory Tour in 1984 I couldn’t attend either of their two Cleveland shows, much to my sister’s and my dismay; two of our friends were lucky enough to go to both concerts and I don’t think we ever got over it.

 

As for others who were way into Michael during the Thriller craze his death in June was devastating to me, but it also reminded me of what a huge part of my childhood he was, and how his influence on me continues as an adult.  John Mayer summed it up best for those of us who grew up with the most perfect album we knew as kids, performed by the ultimate performer against whom we would always compare all others:  “A major strand of our cultural DNA has left us. RIP MJ. I think we’ll mourn his loss as well as the loss of ourselves as children listening to Thriller on the record player.”  When I heard that he was in the hospital with cardiac arrest it was bizarre, I mean, he had become quite eccentric since those glory days in the 80s.  Everyone wondered what was going on with him for the past couple of decades, he was in the tabloids, everyone made jokes about his plastic surgery, monkeys, and children.  It was almost like Thriller  had never happened!  I continued to like his music, though I didn’t buy anymore of his CDs.  By the time Bad came out in 1987 it wasn’t cool to like him in my school, not that I cared what other people thought was cool, but people were not as in love with him as they once were.  It was strange to see how MJ had changed his appearance in those five years since we all became obsessed with Thriller.  His music was still ahead of its time but he was becoming more of a joke in the public eye because of his allegedly bizarre behaviour and lightening skin.   

 

The first music I listened to was Chuck Berry, Elvis, Buddy Holly, The Beatles, Johnny Mathis.  I got my first record player when I was about five years old and those were the records I had–my mom’s old stuff.  But I had no idea who these artists were or that these were old songs, I just knew that I loved the music.  I was nine when Thriller was released, but I didn’t get it until I was ten or eleven.  The first time I had ever heard of Michael Jackson was in 4th grade, the year Thriller came out, when my friend Leslie mentioned him one day in school.  I pretended like I knew who he was because I considered myself a music authority, but Leslie could tell I had no clue.  When the album started to explode and Michael’s picture was everywhere and his videos dominated MTV I understood who he was and how amazing this music was.  I was hooked.

 

There was a girl in my Sunday school who had the Thriller  jacket.  It was totally inappropriate to wear it to church and I always thought she was showing off, and I was very jealous.  I did find a sparkly white glove that  I would put on when I got to school, and my middle sister and I had small MJ purses that we probably got at the mall; mine was blue, I think hers was yellow, and they had the cover of Thriller on them.  They were our prized possessions!  I remember going to Niagara Falls with my grandparents one time in 5th or 6th grade and carrying my Michael Jackson purse around my shoulder as we walked across the bridge at the Angola rest stop and some random woman grabbed it and started gushing about how much she loved it.  “Oh my God!  Did you get this in Niagara Falls?”  “No,” I said, “I got it in Ohio.”  Every time I go to that rest stop I think about that; in fact, I was there the week before he died.

  

I incorporated Michael into every aspect of my daily life, including family events and a short story I wrote for a 5th grade assignment.  There was a box of cards, and on each card was written a sentence that was to be the first sentence of your story.  My card read: “And the winner is…”  So, I made my story about the Academy Awards.  The nominees included Michael for his role in The Wiz, even though that had come out about five years earlier.  The story was really about the after-party, which was not at a big LA nightclub but at Michael’s mansion.  Everyone who was anyone in the 1983 celebrity world was there: Valerie Bertinelli, Ricky Schroder, and Joan Jett, to name a few, and, of course, all of the Jacksons.  The party went very late so everyone decided to spend the night in one of Michael’s hundred bedrooms, and Mrs. Jackson made a huge breakfast the next morning.  A fabulous time was had by all! 

 

After my cousin was christened in Niagara Falls in the mid-80s we had a party.  I used to walk around with a tape recorder at every family event in those days so I could capture funny and random moments.  This time, I pretended I was Barbara Walters and I was covering a celebrity party.  My father was Tom Selleck, my mother Sophia Loren, my uncle was from ZZ Top, a cousin was Don Ho (only because he was wearing a Hawaiian shirt),  another cousin was Dan Tanna from the TV show Vega$.  Dan Tanna’s wife played one of the Jackson sisters, LaToya or Rebbie, and I asked her all about MJ.  Everything in those days revolved around Michael.

 

I started college in 1991, the year of Dangerous.  Some great videos came from that album, and my roommates and I got excited every time we saw them.  I think “Remember the Time” was my favourite, partially because I was a big Magic Johnson fan (I had a Magic poster on the living room wall of our apartment), partially because I loved Eddie Murphy, but mainly because it was just a really sweet-ass video with a great song.  People still thought Michael was weird, but the girls I lived with seemed to appreciate him like I did.  Still, I didn’t buy the album, and I’m not sure why.   

 

When I was in my 20s I got interested in punk music, something I didn’t know too much about beyond having heard about the Sex Pistols.  I became obsessed with learning everything I could about the music, buying CDs and old magazines and newspapers with classic covers.  I never forgot about the music I grew up with, but I was branching out.  Over the years my knowledge of different music styles and their histories expanded, and though I never forgot my love for Michael Jackson, I didn’t really think about it too much.  He had changed so much physically since I first fell in love with him, he was so different.  But his music was just as catchy, even if it wasn’t being played on the radio as much—at least, not in the United States.  He continued to be the biggest star in the world to people in other countries. 

From the day he died until he was finally laid to rest I played nothing but MJ in my car.  I bought the albums I didn’t have.  I learned all the words to every song on Off the Wall.  I searched my old bedroom at my parents’ house for all of my MJ memorabilia.  I bought a poster frame and made a little shrine in my apartment with my favourite poster from when I was a kid, the one with him in a yellow sweater vest and bowtie.  I used to kiss it every night, and you can still see my lip print on his lips.  My middle sister did the same.  She found her MJ scrapbook and we all looked at it one night, laughing at the 80s clothes and hair, remembering how cool we all thought he was and how much we loved his videos, and sad to know that he was gone.  I don’t remember really breaking into tears more than tearing up as I watched the TV coverage and listened to his music.  I’m not sure it sunk in that he was dead until the day of his funeral, when I saw them moving his casket to the hearse.  As soon as I saw those red flowers covering his coffin I knew it was real.  I cried like a little bitch, and stayed that way pretty much all day as I watched every second of the memorial.  Listening to everyone’s memories of him, especially Brooke Shields’ touching speech about their innocent friendship when they were both still so young, humanized Michael for those of us who saw him as a superstar.  He was a man, a troubled man, a talented man, a spiritual man.  I had never believed any of the accusations over the years, I never let that type of thing taint my opinion of him.  He may have looked weird, but when I played Thriller again all I could think of was that zipper coat from “Beat It”, the red V-coat from “Thriller”, his sequined socks from “Billie Jean”.  We all wanted to be him, we all wanted to know him, to touch him.  Listening to the music that made us love him so much when we were kids, it feels like he is truly part of us.  That is something that will never fade.  That is what great art is supposed to do.  That is what great human beings do, it’s the legacy they leave for humanity.  Michael Jackson was not just the King of Pop.  He was a man, a father, a son, a brother.  It really is a simple as that.

Hatred never ceases by hatred

Hatred never ceases by hatred; by love alone it is healed.  This is the ancient and eternal law.

Buddha

 

After watching President Obama’s speech to HRC on Saturday and the National Equality March on Sunday this quote struck me as relevant.  It is relevant not only for those who stand on the side of full equality for LGBT citizens as we encounter bigots who use religion and morality and plain old hatred to condemn, but it is also important to understand that we must not hate those who hate us.  Prejudice, I have become convinced, is a mental illness, especially when it reaches the level of violence against and disgust with those who are different in any way.  People who hold such hatred in their hearts are unhealthy, unhappy people, and returning those negative feelings to them is not going to make things better.  Instead, we should show unconditional love.  This is extremely challenging when confronted with people who tell you that you are going to hell or call you a pedophile, etc., but it is necessary in order to bring about positive change. 

Cleveland has been selected as the site of the 2014 Gay Games, and the local LGBT community has received tremendous support from the city and state governments and from other agencies.  On the day of the announcement that Cleveland was the winner, the rainbow flag was flying over City Hall along with the American flag, and it was an exciting and impressive sight.  All the news channels covered the story and bragged about how our big small town of Cleveland beat out Boston and D.C. for the honour of having the international LGBT and allied communities in town to celebrate diversity, competition, and respect.  The financial windfall of $60 million didn’t hurt!  I hadn’t noticed much protest or complaint from locals at first, but more than a week later there was a letter to the editor published in the Plain Dealer from Larry Molnar, a plain old Joe from Cleveland.  Larry’s letter was preceded by the headline “Sad that the 2014 Gay Games are coming to Cleveland“: 

So the Gay Games are coming (“Cleveland is selected to be host of 2014 Gay Games,” Sept. 30). I find myself angry and disappointed that money seems to be the only reason people are happy.

I cannot help but be sad at the fact we are getting the Gay Games.

I am afraid of what this is saying about Cleveland. I think we have become too tolerant of diverse lifestyles.

Somehow I just cannot see people saying, “Gee, honey, let’s take our kids to the Gay Games.” More like, “I am afraid to take my children downtown because the Gay Games are going on.”

Larry Molnar

Cleveland

Wow.  I mean, this man is actually afraid of the gays.  He’s scared to be around them.  He is upset about tolerance and diversity.  I wonder what’s really  going on with Larry.  He has some shizz to work out.

But we must not hate poor Larry.  That is easy.  He sounds ignorant and bigoted, yes.  He may have met a gay once, long ago, while he was getting fitted for a suit, and that gay may have “accidentally” brushed his hand against Larry’s business while measuring his inseam.  Larry may have had confused feelings about that.  Though not entirely an unpleasant experience, it went against everything Larry had ever been taught and he wasn’t sure how to cope.  But this very confusion may have sparked Larry’s deep fear of gays, his need to speak out against them so that he may protect others from queer intrusion into their idyllic, morally flawless lives.  Who knows why people are so ridiculous and hateful and scared of The Other?

What people like Larry need is to be loved back instead of hated.  I am certainly not advocating that we not make fun of Larry because he is, in fact, asking for it.  But people like him are everywhere and they are all convinced that they are right, that they are true Amurricans who built this country into what it is today, who love their guns, mothers, and apple pie, who love that Constitution and the Pledge of Allegiance.  What was that one line that I always liked in the Pledge, something about liberty and justice for—who was that, again?  I’m sure Larry knows the line I mean.  Love you, Larry, you old fucker! 

Do not force others to adopt your views

Do not force others, including children, by any means whatsoever, to adopt your views, whether by authority, threat, money, propaganda, or even education.  However, through compassionate dialogue, help others renounce fanaticism and narrowness.

…It is the spirit of free inquiry.  I think Westerners can accept this, because you understand it.  If you can find a way to organize it globally, it will be a happy event for the world.

The Wisdom of Thich Nhat Hanh

 

Thinking about all the mudslinging, protests, and general negativity involved in political and social discourse in this country, this quote shows the faith that Thich Nhat Hanh has in us to work through our differences in a more compassionate, rational fashion.  It doesn’t seem possible to have a meaningful discussion with people who yell at the president in the middle of an address to a joint session of Congress, citizens who scream words like socialist and Nazi to those who believe in health care for everyone, or religious zealots who shout homophobic slurs at funerals of those who die of AIDS.  Those who engage in such behaviour are not interested in getting others to understand their ideas, they just want to be the loudest and get the most attention.  They are not interested in dialogue.  They are not interested in democracy.  They use scare tactics, they use controversy, and they don’t care who they hurt.  The thing is, those who behave like that are really hurting their cause–and themselves. 

Teaching our children to be compassionate, free-thinking, decent people should be an easy enough concept for everyone to wrap their heads around.  But so many people raise their kids to be mini-me, clones of everything they think and do, instead of being proud that they are just good people who have the ability to reason and make independent decisions that might be the opposite of what their parents think.  You certainly instill your views in your children, but more importantly what I think is essential is to make sure that they can think for themselves.  I certainly hope my kids don’t grow up to believe in everything I stand against (homophobia, racism, misogyny, Republicanism, etc.), but I want them to think reasonably about society’s issues, I want them to research and come to their opinions in an intelligent fashion.  I hope that everyone does these things instead of forming their political and life’s philosophies from Sarah Palin’s Facebook page, Glenn Beck’s crappy TV show, or Heidi Montag’s endorsements (extra points for you if you have no idea who Heidi Montag is!). 

Only through compassionate dialogue can we really make any change.  We have to resolve to be happy and peaceful in our own minds before we can conduct ourselves with compassion and respect for others and their views.  In recent weeks, I have had many debates with friends and strangers over various political and social issues, and sometimes the discussion got ugly, though not with those I actually knew.  I don’t want to have knock-down, drag-out fights with anyone, really, but especially not with those whom I call friends.  But at least the friends I have argued with know what they are talking about, their arguments have been based on fact and not simple passion.  I have tried to explain why I think the way I do to those whom I do not know personally, but they usually resorted to name-calling when confronted with the facts.  Not knowing these people all I have to go on is what they said and the way they said it.  I can come across as a know-it-all, condescending, and holier-than-thou, and I am aware of that.  Sometimes people do not use the rights words when they present their argument, they do not have any facts to back them up, and they just seem angry at the world more than anything.  It’s difficult to reason with people like that sometimes, and I can’t usually contain myself when correcting their bad grammar and spelling and their lack of evidence.  I never call anyone names, I never assume anything about them.  I try to be reasonable with them, but I don’t usually get that in return.  I am not trying to get them to change their opinion, necessarily, but I am really trying to understand their argument.  Unless I understand someone’s argument I cannot say whether I agree or not.  Not everyone is very articulate, but that does not mean they cannot get their point across in an effective manner.    

I’m not sure about the education part of this quote, unless he is referring to schools that indoctrinate children into believing in a particular political or religious view.  Education can mean many things, but if he’s referring to formal education then I agree.  But you have to educate your children, you have to educate others around you about issues about which you care deeply that they may have no idea about.  But we must be careful about how we present our views sometimes, because what we may see as sharing a simple opinion may be seen by others as forcing our ideas on them.  Compassionate dialogue is a wonderful concept.  I am extremely passionate about my views and try to get others to understand, but that is different from trying to get everyone to think like me (though I’m not always sure that that would be such a bad thing!).  The fanaticism and narrowness which are in such abundant supply in 2009 America are startling, but in a democracy are things we must work through as individuals committed to compassionate dialogue that is based on respect for others and the good of all. 

Meaningless knowledge

For as long as a fool displays meaningless knowledge, it will fall back on his head to destroy what goodness he has.

Buddha, speaking in the Bamboo Grove, from the Dhammapada

 

This quote reminds me of all the blathering idiots who are yellin’ and screamin’  and callin’ President Obama a socialist/communist/Nazi/Muslim/immigrant.  They have no evidence of their claims yet they shout loudly enough so that their voices are heard over those who speak reasonably.  It is an exciting time to be an American, but also one of the most ridiculous times in our nation’s history.

 

Ugh.  Well, God bless America!  At least these assholes have the right to say the stupid shit they say.

Vick, Stallworth, and the Crazy Deer Lady

The justice system works in mysterious ways.  One man participates in the torture and murder of innocent dogs and serves 18 months of a 23-month jail sentence; the other gets drunk, drives, and kills a man, and serves 24 days of a 30-day sentence for DUI manslaughter.  Each of them is black.  Each of these men plays professional football.  Each of them remains in the NFL.  Each of them apologized for their crimes. 

In July a 75-year-old woman in Euclid, Ohio beat a fawn to death with a shovel.  She claims that the animal, which she found in her precious garden, scared her; neighbours believe she did it out of anger because the fawn was eating her flowers.  The event has created a lot of controversy and claims of racism since the woman is black.  Did I mention that she beat a fawn to death with a shovel ?  “It’s a goddamn deer,” said George Forbes, President of the Cleveland NAACP.  “It’s not a human being, it’s a deer. The way this lady is being treated is unfair.”

Yes, it’s an animal the woman murdered.  Michael Vick murdered animals as well.  Race was injected into his case by the usual suspects (Rev. Al) as well, but it never really took over the story.  But Vick’s behaviour was not just one instant of anger and violence.  He was part of an organized dogfighting ring that killed and tortured many dogs over the years.  He had millions of dollars and a great career, yet he blew it all on hurting innocent animals.  

Donte Stallworth also risked a successful career because of his stupid behaviour.  He decided to get wasted one night in March and then chose to get behind the wheel of his Bentley.  He killed Mario Reyes, and 59-year-old man who was trying to catch the bus after working the graveyard shift as a crane operator.  Mario was probably looking forward to getting some rest and chillaxin’ with his family.  Donte made sure that didn’t happen.

How forgiving should we be?  The NFL conditionally lifted Vick’s suspension in July.   So now he can pretty much do everything with his new Philadelphia Eagles teammates except actually play in games.  He’ll be making $1.6 million  for the first year, money he badly needs after filing for bankruptcy in July.  Vick will be on probation for a few years and has expressed his regret and says he is a changed man.  He’s grateful for getting a second chance, he says.  He says he’s committed to doing the right thing, that he wants to be a better father to his two children.  He did his time, he paid his debt to society.  Some people don’t think it’s enough, that he should have stayed in prison longer, that he should be banned for life from the NFL, that he should never be allowed to live a normal life.  I can’t say that I agree with that.  He made a lot of mistakes, it’s true.  But when can we let him move on from his ugly past and do the work he needs to do to better his life?  How does it help society to keep him down?

Stallworth is another matter entirely.  He took one life, a human life, and though I don’t want to get into a debate about whether one man’s life is worth more than the lives of a bunch of dogs, Mario Reyes is dead.  Donte Stallworth is still a free man, able to spend time with his family, watch TV, read the paper.  He is still a member of the Cleveland Browns, but he is suspended for the entire 2009 season.  What kind of example does it set that he only had to serve a few weeks in jail for killing a man when Vick was in prison for a year and a half for murdering dogs? 

I have read a lot about forgiveness over the past year, and every spiritual tradition believes that it is essential.  Forgiveness is necessary for those hurt by the behaviour, but it is also important for the person who committed the act to forgive themselves.  Mario Reyes’ family will have a long, hard road to forgiving Donte Stallworth.  People will always be outraged by Michael Vick’s dogfighting past.  But being angry at these men is not healthy.  Everyone needs to be held accountable for their actions.  Stallworth did not serve enough time in jail for killing a man.  Whatever the law says aside, I can’t believe that any thinking person agrees that 24 days is a long enough sentence for killing someone while under the influence.  Stallworth needs to be in jail for a long, long time.  If I were Roger Goodell I would ban him from ever playing in the NFL again.  Making millions of dollars for throwing a football around is a privilege, not a right.  It is entirely fair to take away that privilege from him for what he did. 

As far as forgiving him goes, that will come with time.  He will have to live with the consequences of his actions for the rest of his life.  I wouldn’t be able to look at myself every day if I killed someone like that.  I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing that I am living my life and enjoying my family and friends.  I don’t understand how people as irresponsible and egotistic as Donte Stallworth live with themselves.  I have friends who drink and drive, some who’ve gotten DUIs.  It bothers me, it worries me, and I don’t get why anyone is so selfish and unfeeling about other peoples’ lives.  Everyone makes mistakes, and a few people actually learn from them.  I sometimes wish for people I know to get pulled over by the police when they are drunk.  I want them to have to deal with reality.  There is only so much lecturing I can do, only so much concern I can express.  Hopefully, Donte Stallworth will come to some conclusions about his life as a result of all the tragedy he has created.  Hopefully, he will truly understand that this is 100% his fault.  There is nothing he can do to bring Mario Reyes back.  There is nothing that Michael Vick can do to bring those dogs back, or to un-injure the ones he hurt.  The only thing that these men can do is to work on their Selves to try to create change in their own lives and to do some good from now on. 

I’m still somewhat conflicted about Vick returning to the NFL this year, even in such a limited capacity.  Of the two, I think he is more truly repentant.  I think he may actually stay on the straight and narrow.  Stallworth has really paid no consequences except for financial.  He bothers me.  It bothers me even more that the Cleveland Browns have kept him on their roster, even though he can’t play until next year.  Forgive him, yes; allow him the privilege of playing NFL football, never again.   

And for that old woman who beat the fawn to death, she needs to go to jail for at least as long as Donte, and should be banned from the Garden Center at Home Depot.  “I’m not mad at you, fawn–I’m mad at the dirt!”