MJ

This is a humor blog and the purpose of it, for the most part, is to try and put a smile on your faces with all the wacky stuff that goes on in the Tourist Mecca that is Times Square.

But last night, I went home in a fog. I didn't even notice the people standing around me in the middle of the square, staring at the news ticker that pronounced Michael Jackson had died. Normally, I try to tell jokes (occasionally successfully). And although in theory it seems like it would be easy to make jokes at MJ's expense, I cannot bring myself to do it.

I wasn't born in America. In fact, I was born in Iran. Post-revolution. During the Iran-Iraq War. I didn't move to America until 1986. Then, as now, there was a lot of turmoil surrounding me in my country. But as a little girl, my memories are of my grandparents and their garden. Of going to our beach villa by the Caspian Sea. And of watching a bootleg copy of "Thriller" over and over again and constantly wearing red in honor of my hero, Michael Jackson (or Dackson as my mom tells me I pronounced it). When I finally did move to America, I think one of the most heartening things for me in this strange land was that, here too, Michael Jackson was an idol.

Even though his life turned into a sad, strange spectacle towards the end that often overshadowed his tremendous contributions to music, I truly hope that his legacy of extraordinary talents will live on stronger than that. To this day, his music is able to do only what the most profoundly perfect pop music is able to: excite feelings of pure joy and an unfettered desire to move in time to the beat. At least, that is what it does for me.

Rest in Peace, MJ. Thanks for all the amazing music and for helping to teach me as a young, young girl that there are some things which know no nationalities, no language barriers, and no boundaries.