"It's Lost It's Meaning..."

I looked it up. The word "Icon." It means "somebody or something widely and uncritically admired, especially somebody or something symbolizing a movement or field of activity." Okay, as far as the far-reaching impact on changing the face of the music industry that he had for the better part of three decades, I'll put a check mark in that category besides Michael Jackson's name. I also looked up the word "bizarre." It means "amusingly or grotesquely odd, strange or unusual." Out of the possible check marks in this category, Michael Jackson gets three out of four.

Unless you've been sequestered under your living room couch for the past couple of days, you are no doubt aware, as is the rest of the civilized world - thanks to the relentless drooling coverage by all the major news media, that Michel Jackson died yesterday at the age of 50 from an apparent heart attack. One would think by the instant and now persistent gnashing of teeth and renting of perfectly functional garments by the thousands of Michael Jackson devotees around the world that someone of major significance had departed this earth. I don't know, I'm thinking of perhaps someone of true iconic stature such as a Abraham Lincoln, or a Gandi, or a Sister Teressa. When it comes to placing an individual on such a lofty pedestal, as has been the immediate reaction with Michael Jackson, I think we are sadly and profoundly missing the mark.

One teary-eyed individual, when asked by a reporter his reaction to the news of Jackson's passing, stated that the event would be so profound in his life that he would "always remember where he as and what he was doing when he first heard the news." This is an individual, in my opinion, who apparently lives a very shallow and meaningless life, if indeed Michael Jackson is to serve as a pivotal moment of reflection in his otherwise hum-drum existence. I clearly remember what I was doing and where I was when the news broke that President John F. Kennedy had been killed by an assassin's bullet in Dallas, Texas. I remember what I was doing and where I was when the space shuttle Challenger exploded soon after liftoff from the Kennedy Space Center on January 28th, 1986, and I certainly can recall precisely where I was and what I was doing on the morning of September 11th, 2001. My guess is that what occurred on yesterday's date will fade into my lost memory bank just as assuredly as what I had for lunch on that same day. Sorry Michael, you just don't measure up in my opinion of what an icon is and should represent.

Make no mistake, Jackson was a true musical genius, who was ahead of his time in innovative showmanship, lyrical inventiveness and generation influence. But his personal life, far too often played out pathetically in the ever glaring and inquisitive public eye, was a travesty. No doubt his music will live on, appreciated and mimicked by those, like myself, who grew up with Michael when he first burst on the stage as the lead singer for the Jackson Five. But this dangerous world in which we tenuously reside needs more individuals who can achieve true iconic status by acts that rise to the necessary level of adoration for living an exemplary life in all aspects of their existence...not merely for having given a good performance.

If I am to morn Michael Jackson's passing at all it is because he lived such an apparently sad and lonely life...a life cut short by his own lifestyle misdeeds. Released now is he from his earthly pain...and that is a blessing. That having been said...let's move on.