Thank You For Your Goodness

In the early to mid 1980s the world was suffering a hangover, after a brutal combination of 70s disco glam rock. But one thing was for sure, Michael Jackson was every girl’s “Thriller.” Even for me at the not-so-ripe age of six, living in my teenage sister’s shadow, there was nothing better than that guy who could spin like a top and stand on his toes.

After eating family dinner in our yellow-flowered kitchen, my sister Rachel and I would run upstairs and get ready to put on a show. First, she’d style me with massive bangs that waved to one side and an oversized white t-shirt that was perfect to slip off one shoulder and belt into a dress. Then came the makeup – bubblegum pink blush, bright blue eye shadow to compliment the bright blue mascara, and the reddest lipstick she could get her hands on. Rachel then glammed herself up and suddenly we were transformed into “punk rockers.” With either Thriller or Off The Wall in hand (on vinyl, of course), we’d run downstairs straight to our dad’s record player and strategically place the needle to one of our favorites: “Wanna Be Startin’ Something,” “Billie Jean,” “I Wanna Rock With You,” or “Don’t Stop Till You Get Enough.”

In an instance, Rachel and I were on stage showing off the latest moves we learned in dance class and our best Michael impressions. We moonwalked, we twirled, and we wore one glove. We’d get so utterly high off of Michael’s voice pumping through us that nothing else existed. And it was contagious. It never took long to get the entire family boogying around the house singing, “Mamma say mamma saw mamaco saw.”

That’s the thing about Michael; his melodies are adrenalin shots that can lift all walks of life. He wrote timeless grooves and soulful lyrics that continue to be universally appreciated. Regardless of what he did or didn’t do, Michael Jackson was a musical juggernaut.

by Genette Nowak