Last year at this time, almost to the day, I was remembering George Carlin after his passing. Yesterday, the universe reminded me once again that I’m old with the passing of two icons from my youth.

Although I did watch Charlie’s Angels, like all other pre-pubescent males did back then, I never had Farrah’s iconic poster on my wall (I had Lisa Hartman’s instead), and I wouldn’t say I was ever a huge fan of hers. Michael Jackson was another story.

I, like millions of others, watched his supernatural dancing skills. I watched the world premiere of John Landis’s Thriller video on MTV. Even back then when MTV still played videos, that was an event. I was crushed when his St. Louis concert date was cancelled during the Bad tour of 1988.

So yesterday, we were at the pool when the news broke on the radio. At first it was a shock, but I don’t think it effected me like it has some people. One girl at the pool, who looked to be about 14 years old, said, “why isn’t anyone upset that Michael Jackson JUST DIED?” Well, if this were 1989, I would have shared her grief. But for me, and the millions who grew up with him, who watched him on the Motown 25 special, where he defied the laws of physics and walked on the moon, that Michael died a long time ago. So this news just brings to an end a period of mourning that had, frankly, gone on far too long.

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