The Taylor Five

As hard as I tried to avoid them, I was still subjected to another post-Michael Jackson news report today. Thousands of memorabilia-wearing fans are gathering for vigils in his honor. What would induce them to do that? How could that many people be so blinded by devotion that they overlook their idol’s rapid deterioration into weirdness? For at best, Michael Jackson died a strange and pitiable man. At worst— well, I won’t go there.

I can remember as clear as day sitting with my brothers and mother at home when I was about five years old. Mom said, “I’m so glad that you all aren’t getting obsessed about Michael Jackson like your friends are. People spend a lot of money on things like that, and it’s really not that much fun. We can enjoy other interests.” Looking back, her preemptive strike certainly was effective with me. I was probably young enough to be safe from the Michael Jackson craze, but when I entered fifth grade, the New Kids on the Block were hot! Everyone in my grade had their tapes. They wore the neon NKOTB tee shirts to school. The concert posters hung on their walls and everyone had their favorite New Kid. Apparently my male peers were not immune, because many of them imitated the New Kids’ hairstyles. (Do you remember that HAIR??) Well, all that was good enough reason for me to be uninterested, untouched, laughingly above it all.

Yes, there was a root of pride winding through my attitude that the Lord has been gradually pruning out ever since. I am glad, however, that my parents planted in me that small seed of courage to go against the tide. They should probably be thankful too. They saved a fortune on neon tee shirts through the years, and they could be babysitting tonight while I’m mourning at a vigil.