Even if I wasn't sixteen or even thirty when Michael Jackson was at his prime, I find myself mourning his demise. I loved to watch him perform and I always wanted a red jacket with gold epaulettes. I was born to wear such a jacket. We gave Ed a sequined glove for one of his birthdays (it cost way too much). One of the better gifts. Everyone wore that glove at least once. Later, I wrote a roadshow where I had a large group of seventy-somethings sing "Bad." They were hilarious.
I thought he was beautiful before he had himself cut into little pieces. Someone didn't love that boy enough.