I admit it:  I spent yesterday morning glued to the tv set, watching the Michael Jackson memorial on tv.  I thought it was part touching, part freakshow and yet there I sat.  I was a fan.  No, I wouldn't say he was necessarily my favorite artist or anything, but I did love much of his music.  For me, though, the fascination was more with just the whole personna of this guy who was obviously battling more than a few giants.  Don't we all though?  Throw a gazillion dollars into the mix and a couple of billion fans and who knows, maybe I'd be chopping off parts of my face and buying a pet monkey.

Admission #2:  Since MJ died, I've driven out to Neverland three times.  The first was a total impulse -- I was leaving the gym when I turned on my phone and had two messages saying he had died.  I've never lived anywhere close to someone that famous so I was curious if people would be gathering there (like you see on tv.)  It's only about 20-25 minutes and the drive is stunning, so I went out there.  Mostly it was reporters but, in the half hour or so that I stayed out there by the gates, there was a constrant stream of fans dropping off flowers, cards, posters etc.  I wondered who they expected to see them, but I understand the feeling of needing to do something.  I thought it was nice actually. 

My other two trips out there were to take curious friends.  It was definitely interesting (exciting, even) to watch the spectacle of all the news trucks, reporters, etc. lined up on that small country road.

Give the locals here half a chance and they'll open up about their experiences with the superstar -- the lady at the lavender farm doesn't believe any of the rumors about child molestation and her kids played at Neverland often.  I would like to think they're not true, but who knows.  Hopefully he was just a weird, misunderstood boy who never really knew how to handle all that was thrown at him.  I'd like to think so.