So...my morning started with my radio alarm going off. I had forgotten I had set it to a classic rock station. So I vaguely hear..."first live recording in 1967...during...the Beatles All You Need is Love...with Mick Jagger and Donovan among the members of the chorus..." Blah blah blah, I'm still half asleep. Then I hear something like..."This classic rock moment has been brought to you by the Burcham Hills Retirement Center." Boom! I'm awake, thinking "That's the wrong commercial for this demographic." I used to visit an elderly lady from my churh at Burcham Hills (which also has an assisted living center.) And then I realize, "Oh my gosh. It's not. It's exactly right. My husband is retired."
Then after returning to work after lunch (I had come home to feed the dog and let him out) I heard that Farrah Fawcett had died as I was parking my car. I sat in the car and listened to the story.. As I got out of the car, tears just inexplicably started rolling down my face. I was not a fan of Charlie's Angels...not my kind of thing, plus it was known as a "jiggle" show and I was developing my feminist sensibilities, such as they are, at that time. However, I always thought she was beautiful and had amazing hair even in the magazine shampoo ads in which I first noticed her (pre-Angels.) I also thought she did great work in The Burning Bed, which I paid special attention to because it involved people in a town near where I lived at that point...the case was frequently discussed in the local media. (It was a good movie, but I always wondered why the Michigan people had Texas accents. Most Michigan accents are more like Chicago-lite or Canada-lite or Sarah Palin-lite, depending on the combination of where you live and your parents are from.)
I was thinking about how in my college dorm so many of the young men had that Farrah poster in their rooms. Seriously, it was everywhere. I had to stop in the rest room and collect myself before I went to teach my class; I did not know why this was affecting me so.
And then later as I was reading something on AOL, in the more often than not extremely stupid comments, someone said something about Michael Jackson being dead. I thought it was a Mikey pop-rocks, Wikipedia false info planting kind of thing, then the local news said "TMZ is reporting..." (And I thought "Really? TMZ?") and then finally, Brian Williams was saying it.
I have two Michaels in my memory: Michael, the boy my age with pictures in Tiger Beat magazine who sang with his brothers, then Thriller Michael whose video "world premiere" I watched with my husband and stepkids before I became a mother myself. The much later Michael was definitely disturbing but I always wondered why no one seemed to be helping this clearly troubled man who pretty much had his childhood stolen from him.
I feel sad and old today.