Eulogy @ MindSay 
Superstars -- they are not like us.
One of the greatest superstars has died. Michael Jackson was a popular culture icon from his pre-teen years until his death, and his legend will continue to grow. He was no mere PT Barnum; Michael was the real thing: a world-historical figure whose fame overshadows sultans, kings, and presidents. He sold three-fourths of a billion albums, but this is secondary. He was, in John Lennon's famous phrasing, "Bigger than Jesus." And as with our image-making of the legend of Jesus, our every hope, desire, revulsion became projected onto his image, his character.
Thus he walked with a burden no one else can know. Michael died too young, and I am so saddened by his death. Others have suggested comparisons to other pop stars, but they can only fall pathetically short. Michael Jackson became like an angel when he performed. In his private world, he was chased by devils. He lived outside himself, never comfortable in his own skin.
Michael does not leave much for us to analyze; his art was not the content of the music or the dance, but the performance itself. Watching TV in 1985, I saw an audience-member cry, "Oh my God, I just saw Michael Jackson!" The man himself was in the distance, glittering in gold and silver.
He was not larger than life -- life was too small for him. Our cultural epoch is in love with fame, tragic drama, and spectacle. As Mick Jagger sang in the Rolling Stones' "Sympathy for the Devil":
In the end, we know that Michael Jackson was not better than us. The man may well have been a pederast and nonviolent sociopath. He very nearly went to jail for years; he was charged with 14 counts of child molestation. But let it be known -- our culture has no gods save the idea of "Michael Jacksons" and those like him. In an era of digital reproduction, "reality" has slid into melodrama. Well-fed and decadent, we hunger for figures unimaginable. A hero with gigantic talents and perhaps even larger character flaws has gone gentle into that good night, and we are all the worse for it.
I shouted out,
Who killed the Kennedys?
When after all
It was you and me
I just wanted to post the eulogy that I'm going to read at my dad's service.......... here's his obit/story as well, if you're interested..... he made the front page of the county newspaper, which gives me mixed feelings... :-/
http://sdbeta.timberlakepublishing.com/article.asp?article=7258&paper=1&cat=1
Let me just say that I consider myself one of the most fortunate people in the world, because I was blessed enough to be Mark’s only child. He was the best father I could have asked for, and I’m thankful for the close relationship that we had, and the years we had together-although they were much too short. Like most people here, I was convinced that my father would live forever, and the loss of him has been devastating to me, as I know that it is to this entire community. He loved this community dearly, and as I’ve seen over the past week, this community loved him just as much. I know that most of you are just as shocked and heartbroken as I am.
My father loved life and everything in it. He was a lifetime student as well as a lifetime teacher. Whether the subject matter was organic or mechanical, he wanted to take it apart to see what made it tick. He would rather understand a person than judge them, and would do whatever he could to help someone out, whether they realized they’d been helped or not.
My father and I shared many a night at Pizza Hut, usually Mondays, because that was 2 for 1 pasta night. Other nights we would rent a movie from the library or off the dollar rack at Video Scene and pop some popcorn.
I really wish that I could tell you all of my dad’s interests, but they were so numerous that I wouldn’t want to leave anything out. There’s really not much that my dad wasn’t interested in – except for pop culture, of course, and I never knew him to go skydiving, either. He was always on the go; always everywhere and into everything. I can’t tell you how many people I would run into who had just seen my dad recently – most frequently at the library, of course.
My friend told me of one sighting last year – she was driving through town when she heard what she thought was a lawnmower. She was trying to figure out where it was coming from, but then she saw my dad driving down the road in one of his little MR-2’s. I think that it was probably the same one that he was driving when he was late to my company picnic last year – the muffler fell off on his way there. A normal person would have just said “Forget it, it’s not worth the trouble!” – but not my dad. He turned around and just brought his other car. If he said that he would be somewhere, you could count on him. I certainly wish that I would have inherited his punctuality, but timeliness is not one of my qualities.
My dad took me trick-or-treating for Halloween each year. One year, he painted my face like a witch… he did such a good job that when I looked in the mirror, I started crying. He washing it all off of my face and made it a little less scary. Since no one else would be home, he decided to leave the candy in a bowl on the porch. He looked through all the cabinets and could only find the big stainless steel bowl that he used to make his homemade granola (which he would pour apple juice over and eat for breakfast every morning). So he put the bowl out with the candy on the front porch. When we returned from trick-or-treating, the bowl had disappeared. My father was so upset that those ‘little hoodlums’ had taken his bowl! A few months later, he saw his bowl under the community center by our house. It was all dented up and dirty, but my dad was so happy to have his bowl back. I said, “You aren’t going to use that, are you?” To which he replied, “I can still use it – I’ll just wash it and bend it back into the best shape I can.” My father was the same way with people – they held the same value to him, even if they were a little dirty or beaten up; if they weren’t particularly shiny. If they were uneducated, he would teach them. If they’d fallen down, he’d give them a hand up. He was able to see the potential in them, even if they couldn’t see it themselves. My father was a great man, and he tried to find the good in people, and he would put forth all of his effort into making his community a better place.
I want to just take a minute to read something that I gave my dad close to 10 years ago for Father’s Day – and please excuse the liberties that I apparently took to make things rhyme:
Happy Father’s Day!
Featuring a poem as the next thing in the series of “Best Dad in the World”. I know that I haven’t been the best daughter, but you’ve been the best dad. I love you!
A day like today
Is just like any other
Except that it’s special
And full of mush-all
You’ve been there for me
When I needed you most
And it makes me feel good
When to others you boast
About me.
But you’re my dad
And you’re doing a great job.
When I thought the world
Was coming down,
You braced it with your back
And with me, I know that I’ve
Put you on the rack-
A lot.
But in the end I know
That you only want the best for me
And I’ve learned so much from you –
If you only knew…
How much I love you!
In closing, I’d like to say that if one day, I can have even half of the impact that my father had in this world, that I will have achieved great things.
