photo credit: Current News Stories

It’s a regular Sunday, but somehow I cannot make myself to do anything. Not because I am lazy, but because I feel kind of blue. My husband is depressed because he finally found a job after being unemployed for the past eight months, but it’s a job that he hates. And I am sad because I still think about Michael Jackson’s death. It’s kind of dumb. But I was deeply touched and shocked when I learned of his death. I was hoping it was a rumor and expected to hear any minute that it’s not true, that he is alive. I don’t know why. I never met the guy. I love his music though.

Like millions of people I was growing up with him. Everybody and their mother danced to his music and I was no exception. I was growing up in the USSR and I didn’t see his video clips since Soviet government prohibited any American TV or influence. That was changed in 90′s.

I was exposed to Michael Jackson’s music for the first time when my father brought an audio cassette (most likely pirated) from Afghanistan where he worked as a civil engeener during the war. It had a picture of MJ on the cover, as I remember he still looked black. My sister, my cousin and I were listening to it non-stop.

There were so many touching and great words said about Michael Jackson since the world learned of his passing. And, of course, he was excentric, even weird and had a tragic life. Do I even need to bother to repeat?

But I know that when I hear him on the radio I am going to remember him by what he probably wanted to be remembered by – his musical creations, his talent, his famous dance moves. I am going to remember with nostalgia my teenage self going at it in the living room of our tiny apartment in a Soviet concrete building. Or maybe I feel a little bit empty inside because I realize that my care-free youth is gone.