In the days following the death of pop icon Michael Jackson, my husband was genuinely surprised at the magnitude of collective grief.
“I don’t get,” he said, shaking his head. “The media is obsessed. It’s been nothing but wall-to-wall Michael Jackson for the past 48 hours. Was he really that big of a deal?”
“Yes,” I replied, barely batting an eye. “He was that big of a deal. And his death was positively shocking. Brace yourself, the coverage will be massive.”
That was my husband’s cue to doubt my sixth sense of pop sensibility. I like to think of it as collective unconscious, an amorphous barometer of hot or not, funny or die, or jump on the bandwagon. Fans were still reeling, creating makeshift memorials, and holding vigils outside old Jackson venues. It would likely be weeks before the story abated … maybe longer.
We have lived through similar phenomenon. First came JFK, then Elvis, John Lennon, and Princess Diana. We have also experienced social upheaval punctuated by the deaths of Martin, RFK, and Sharon Tate. Since the early sixties, so many famous have passed tragically before their time. But instinctively, I knew this time was different. Michael Jackson transcended celebrity. In a strange and unique way, he changed the world.
For more than a week now, I have listened to the talk show hosts, checked news wires, and monitored forums. There is no slow down. It’s Jackson 24/7. Over a million and a half fans applied for tickets to today’s memorial. Live coverage from the L.A. Staples Center and they’re not even burying the body.
Those who regard his troubled life as a freak show, they don’t get it. They don’t understand how a late night punchline could actually matter. Hangers on and wannabes, they surmise, people so obsessed with celebrity they need someone like Jackson to fill a void. What about the real heroes, like our men in uniform? The people who sacrifice so that we can remain free? Where are their stories in this crush of Jackson media coverage? Has the planet gone completely insane?
There may be those who are truly obsessed with celebrity, following the masses for a glimmer of radiance. Like bees swarming or geese flocking, they are part of a unifying energy, invisible nourishment feeding the soul. There are no words for it. No way to describe the ephemeral experience. Opportunity arises and quickly disappears. Latch on if you want to come along for the ride.
And then there are those who simply wish to pay tribute. They salute Jackson because his talent enhanced their lives. His songs became the backdrop of their memories, a dance at prom or adolescent epiphany. Michael Jackson united ethnicities. For once, we could all hit the dance floor and briefly envision America as one.

Who among us has not been hypnotized by his moonwalk, awed by his Billboard stats, or impressed by his career? Performance on “The Ed Sullivan Show” and Motown deal by the age of 11. “Thriller,” the best selling album of all time. Ownership of The Beatles catalog. A record eight Grammy Awards in 1984.
Dick Clark, the man who almost single-handedly shaped rock and roll, said of Jackson in the tribute issue of Entertainment Weekly, “Many have tried and will try to copy him, but his talent will never be matched.”
Speaking at today's public memorial, Berry Gordy, Jr. anointed Jackson “the greatest entertainer who ever lived.”
Michael Jackson was an extraordinarily gifted innovator who paid dearly for the price of fame. To mock his universal appeal is to ignore his many accomplishments. King of Pop will always be synonymous with his name.

What’s the true measure of a person’s abilities? Praise freely given by one's peers. In that case, Michael Jackson was a super nova. All is forgotten as the legend lives on.