I watched a clip on The Michael Jackson Channel (formerly CNN) Sunday. They were interviewing a young woman who was on the verge of tears because she might not get a ticket to the memorial service at the Staples Center. “He meant so much to me,” she said in a thin and anxious voice.

I sat there for a minute, resisting the urge to yell, “Get a life!” at the TV. Then, it occurred to me that maybe there was something to what she said. Maybe a person of Michael Jackson’s stature has some type of meaning to all of us.

As I gave this more thought, I came to realize that there were two Michael Jacksons. There was Michael Jackson The Superstar, the one most of the world chose to see. Then, there was The Other Michael Jackson.

The Other Michael Jackson was a material guy. What he didn’t have, he didn’t want. But, as I watched the interviews with him–the ones where he goes through store after store pointing to and buying practically everything in sight–it occurred to me he wasn’t buying so much as he was accumulating. It reminded me of Citizen Kane.

The Michael Jackson I saw was one who was looking for something. As if a piece of him had been cut out and not replaced. As if he had a hole where part of his soul was supposed to be. He bought things, but that didn’t help. So, he bought more things, and that didn’t help either. He changed the way he looked to the point of turning himself into a freak show. He married twice. Divorced twice. Had kids. He couldn’t sleep. He took drugs. He likely got hooked. Nothing helped. Nothing could fill up the hole.

To hear the story told, Michael Jackson often lamented the loss of his childhood. I think that was at least part of the deal with The Other Michael Jackson. But, I also believe The Other Michael Jackson was running from something. Satchel Paige once said: “Don’t look back. Something might be gaining on you.” I think The Other Michael Jackson spent a lot of time looking back, and I think something was gaining on him. Gaining so fast it chased him to death. In the end, The Other Michael Jackson was much like the rest of us. He was a troubled, scared and flawed human being who made some bad choices and fought some serious personal demons and came out on the short end of the stick. Nothing more. Nothing less.

At the memorial at the Staples Center on Tuesday, the carnival that was the life of Michael Jackson The Superstar will fold its tents for the last time. The roadies will dismantle the rides. The barkers will close their attractions. Well-meaning people will say nice things.

I won’t watch. I won’t care. Because, the Michael Jackson who meant something to me is the one whose life lesson is that you have to watch every step on the path of life, whether that path is an old, rutted dirt trail or an expressway to stardom. The Michael Jackson who meant something to me is the one who seemed very sad and very empty in spite of everything he had. He’s the one I wanted to ask: If you had it to do over again, would you do it the same way, or would you have chosen another path or even done it at all.

I hope wherever The Other Michael Jackson is, he has finally found peace, and I hope the hole in his soul has finally been filled up.

© 2009, Mac Williams. All rights reserved.

• No Related Post