Michael Joseph Jackson -- 1958-2009

It's still sinking in that Michael Jackson is gone. "Gone Too Soon," as he sang.

His music, with the Jackson Five and as a solo artist, was part of my family's soundtrack. When we were little, we saw the Jackson Five for the first time in 1969 on "The Ed Sullivan Show," followed by an appearance on "Hollywood Palace." (Only baby boomers and older would have seen these shows. Sorry, younger folk.) My sisters and I would go to our cousin's house down the street in the Oak Park area of Sacramento to rave over the Jackson Five's debut album. Their hits came in quick succession -- "I Want You Back," "ABC," "The Love You Save," "Mama's Pearl," "I'll Be There."

When we moved from Oak Park to South Sacramento in April 1971, the song "Never Can Say Goodbye" was on the radio in Mom's black Oldsmobile. My siblings and I were saying goodbye to our friends from Oak Park and saying hello to a new life in the suburbs.

My high school friends did the bump and the robot to the Jackson Five's "Dancing Machine." In 1978, when I was at UC Davis, Michael struck out on his own (for the second time) with "Off the Wall." When I would spend nights into the early morning studying, I would dance to "Working Day and Night" to keep myself awake.

When "Off the Wall" came out, that time was the best Michael ever looked. He was lanky with a perfect button nose and milk chocolate skin.

But it was "Thriller" that shot Michael into the stratosphere. It seemed everyone had a copy of the album. When MTV began showing "Beat It," I think that's when blacks began saying, "I want my MTV."

During the 1983 television special "Motown 25," he showed how much of a showman he was. When he sang "Billie Jean" and performed his famous moonwalk, I was in awe. I thought he was on par with Gene Kelly and Fred Astaire.

Yes, there were the tabloid tidbits -- the vitiligo, the makeup, the allegations of child molestation, his unorthodox fascination with children, his marriages, his young children being shielded from view. There were times when I'd shake my head. But it was like having an odd relative whom you loved anyway.

He was on his way to making a comeback when he went into cardiac arrest and died. It was a comeback that will never come.

May God rest your soul, Michael Jackson.

Embracing Singleness

My sister, Black Woman Blogging (http://www.blackwomanblogging.blogspot.com), slapped me upside the head yesterday and brought me to my senses about my single status. The grass isn't always greener on the other side.

In my previous post I was doing the wailing and gnashing of teeth regarding my not being in a relationship, especially as I approach 50. (Or, as I call it, "fiddy.") I was especially envious of BWB and her marriage to BMNB (Black Man Not Blogging). The two are best friends who married each other.

But not all is as it seems, BWB said. There are occasional disagreements, division of household labor and cooking (She gets the cooking.), arranging schedules and finances so they can travel together, checking with each other on their whereabouts, and, in old age, changing a spouse's "poopy diaper." (Not something to look forward to.)

As a single woman, BWB pointed out, I can go where I please, buy what I please, and not worry about joint finances or schedules. I have been squandering my singleness on feeling sorry for myself. As Tim Gunn from "Project Runway" would say, I should "make it work."

So, as I write this, I have a new attitude toward singleness. I probably wouldn't have been able to attend National Association of Black Journalists conventions if I had been married. And I love traveling. But, most of all, I like the freedom of being single. I attend dances and other single events, go to movies, ride my bicycle, and shoot photos without worrying about what my husband would think.

This is not to disparage marriage. There are pluses and minuses in both marriage and singleness. But I'm learning to be happy where I am.

Thank you, BWB.

Writing Diva

My Relationship With Me

Over the past couple of weeks, I've been in a funk about my relationship status, or, shall I say, a lack thereof. I've seen friends and former loves in happy romances, leading me to feel sorry for myself. I came close to doing something I promised myself I wouldn't do -- contact a psychic. I haven't and, God willing, don't plan to.

I prayed for several days asking God for some guidance. That guidance came from, of all places, the movie "Sex and the City." The film, based on the successful HBO television series, followed the adventures of writer Carrie Bradshaw and her friends, Samantha, Charlotte, and Miranda. Samantha had a previous bout with breast cancer and was juggling a relationship with her younger boyfriend. She came to the conclusion, when breaking up with Smith, that she needed to focus on a relationship with herself.

My "significant other" would push me out to enjoy life by going to dances, going bicycle riding, exercising, seeing movies, decorating the home, and spending time with friends and family. Whether I have a relationship with a man is pretty much up to God. I may be destined for lifelong singleness, but it's not a death sentence. In fact, singleness may be my way of living life to the fullest.

Writing Diva

What Kind of California Do You Want?

What kind of world do you want?
Think anything
Let's start at the start
Build a masterpiece
Be careful what you wish for
History starts now
John Ondrasik, Five for Fighting, "World"

To paraphrase the first sentence of the Rev. Rick Warren's best-selling book The Purpose-Driven Life, it's not about you -- the California taxpayer fed up with politics as usual in Sacramento.

It's not about me, either. This blogger is a California civil servant who fears for her job, paycheck, and home.

It's about this state -- California.

Although turnout for the May 19 special election for six state budget-related propositions was reportedly at a low of 23 percent, voters resoundingly thrashed all but one -- a proposition that bans any raises for the Governor, Legislature, and other top state officials if the general fund is expected to end the fiscal year with a deficit.

Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger interpreted the results thus, according to The Sacramento Bee: "I think the message was clear from the people: Go all out and make those cuts and live within your means."

OK, then. It's time for all California voters to make some hard choices. Therefore, I suggest the following:

• California legislators should send a questionnaire each fall to all state voters asking them which services they would like to keep or cut, such as law enforcement, fire protection, prisons, education, health care, home health services, education, and the like. Ask voters if they would be willing to pay for these services and how much they're willing to shell out.
• Legislators (both state senators and assembly members) should host (at least) four "town hall" meetings in their districts between January 10 and June 1, including one meeting on a weeknight and one on a Saturday in different communities. They should present the results of the questionnaire and discuss options and legal constraints with those voters who attend. Then the legislators should vote according to what their constituents want, not according to lobbyists' positions or anyone's contributions.
• Voters must make time to keep up with issues of import to them and the positions their legislators take on all statewide matters. I also suggest that there be a four-year (at least) moratorium on citizen-drafted state initiatives to allow legislators to do their jobs. Also, Californians should consider whether some state laws based on propositions be put on hold or abolished, such as Proposition 98, which guarantees a portion of the general fund for education, or, (Horrors!) Proposition 13, approved in 1978, which freezes the tax-assessed value of properties at the time of purchase with a 2 percent cap on annual assessment increases.

Voters must also realize that some programs are federally mandated, such as the Department of Motor Vehicles and health care for (yes) illegal immigrants.

I realize that I'm asking voters to do a lot of homework. News flash: Being an informed citizen and making decisions that affect your household and the state of California aren't a piece of cake. Deal with it!

Again, ask yourselves: What kind of California do you want? What kind of California do you want to leave to your descendants?

Get to work.

Writing Diva

Mommie Dearest

A bit of clarification is warranted regarding the title of today's entry. The title doesn't pertain to the late Joan Crawford, but to the suspect in the Sandra Cantú murder case, which had a bigger twist and WTF moments than an episode of the television series "24."

Over the past three weeks people throughout California have been enthralled by the case of 8-year-old Sandra Cantú of Tracy, who disappeared March 27 after a surveillance camera recorded her skipping away from her residence in a mobile home park. Locals volunteered to search for the bubbly little girl. More than a week ago law enforcement authorities found the girl's body crammed into a suitcase and dumped into a retaining pond.

Early Saturday (April 11) morning, a suspect had been arrested and booked on suspicion of kidnap and murder. But the "monster" wasn't a man.

It was a woman. The mother of one of Sandra's playmates. A Sunday school teacher.

Tracy police say Melissa Chantel Huckaby, 28, is the only suspect in the case. Shortly after she reported her suitcase missing, police grilled Huckaby for five hours before she reportedly indicated that she deliberately killed the little girl.

The case was the talk of the J.C. Penney Salon where I had my hair relaxed Saturday. I was stunned to hear that the suspect is a woman.

I fully expected someone like Richard Allen Davis, who was convicted of kidnapping, raping, and murdering 12-year-old Polly Klaas of Petaluma in November 1993. I thought it would be someone like Curtis Dean Anderson, who did the same to Xiana Fairchild of Vallejo in December 1999.

But a woman who taught Bible study at her grandfather's nearby church? The mother of Sandra's 5-year-old playmate?

What is the world coming to?

Youngsters, including my 8-year-old and 5-year-old great-nephews, are taught about "Stranger Danger," to never go with strangers, to scream for help, to fight off attackers. But what do you teach about mothers, fathers, neighbors you know?

I remember when I was in sixth grade, my father drove me to my friend's house so I could work on a social science report with her. He stayed at the house chatting with my friend's mom until I was done. He believed that his children should not spend a lot of time at other people's homes.

It's a sad day when parents have to be suspicious of other parents.

Writing Diva

Still Makes Me Wanna Holla

April 1, 1984, was one of those dates when you know what you were doing when something momentous happened – the way dates like November 22, 1963, or April 4, 1968, make an indelible mark in our collective psyche.

April 1, 1984, was when the “Prince of Soul,” Marvin Gaye, died. An argument between his parents in which Marvin intervened ended when the Rev. Marvin Gay Sr. shot and killed his son a day before his 45th birthday.

I was listening to the radio when I heard the news. I called my older sister T1 at work and told her the news.

“April Fool, right?” T1 joked.

“Not this time,” I said somberly. When I referred to my older sister by her middle name instead of a nickname, I was being serious.

Marvin was special to T1 not just because of his music and his good looks. They share the same birthday, April 2. (My siblings and I would call T1 the “After Fool” because she missed being an April Fool by a day.)

My family grew up listening to Motown, Aretha, the Isley Brothers, Luther, and others. Mom and my sisters just loooved Marvin. In the early 1960s, he was clean-shaven wearing a sports jacket and turtleneck, looking fine. When he sang his duets with spunky-cute Tammi Terrell, they looked as if they could be the perfect couple. I still prefer their version of “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” to Diana Ross’s bombastic rendition.

When Tammi Terrell died at 24 of a malignant brain tumor in 1970, Marvin went into seclusion. When he emerged, he was bearded and introspective, more concerned about the world around him. His 1971 concept album “What’s Going On” reflected one of many changes Gaye would undergo in his personal and professional life. The single became Rolling Stone’s fourth greatest single of all time.

Gaye’s version of “I Heard It Through the Grapevine” was recorded before Gladys Knight and the Pips did theirs. But the latter version was released first and reached number two on the U.S. pop charts. Although Motown founder Berry Gordy was adamant that Gaye’s “Grapevine” not be released, the radio disc jockeys heard the cut and started playing it until Gordy relented. The version, with its French horn opening that heralded a darker, more defiant attitude than Gladys’s version, shot to number one, where it stayed for seven weeks.

When the sensual “Let’s Get It On” album came out in 1973, I was appalled. I thought he went from ecologist to just plain horndog. As I matured, I realized that it was just a side of Marvin that the public hadn’t seen. The album also features my favorite Marvin song “Distant Lover,” a theme for a long-ago, long-distance romance.

Despite the hits, Marvin hadn’t received a Grammy until 1983 – for “Sexual Healing.” I admit, when the song first came out, I thought he was a howling horndog just begging for some. “Bay-beee, I’m hot just like an oveeeen, I need your loveeeng, and bay-beeee, I can’t hold it much longer, it’s getting stronger and stronger…”

I remember when Marvin came onstage at the Grammy Awards to accept his gramophone for male R&B performance, the audience gave him a standing ovation, for which he looked humbled and grateful.

I often wonder what more he could have done had he lived to see his 45th birthday – and many more after that.

Rest in peace, Marvin.

Writing Diva

Whither Newspapers?

Eight years after I left newspaper journalism to “join the dark side,” as my former journalist colleagues put it, and become an information officer for a California government agency, I still miss pounding the pavement and pressing phone buttons hunting for a story to fill a slowly shrinking news hole. These days, with newspaper layoffs, pay cuts, furloughs, and newspaper shutdowns or conversions to Web sites, I realize I can’t return to newspapers even if I wanted to.


Over the past several weeks, the Rocky Mountain News folded after nearly 150 years. Last year, according to National Public Radio, it cost its parent company E.W. Scripps Co. $16 million in losses. The Seattle Post-Intelligencer went completely digital and shut down its print edition after 146 years. The Ann Arbor News will stop its presses in July after 174 years and be replaced by a Web-focused community news operation, according to the Associated Press.


The San Francisco Chronicle was perilously close to shutting its doors after losing $1 million or more a week for the past several years. On March 7, members of the Chronicle's unit of the California Media Workers Guild agreed to job and benefit cuts required by management, the San Francisco Business Times reported. The job concessions included cuts regardless of seniority.

There have been layoffs at newspapers nationwide, including The Sacramento Bee, the San Diego Union-Tribune (which Copley Newspapers, its parent company, sold last week), the Los Angeles Times, the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, The Buffalo News, just to name a few. Gannett Newspapers and MediaNews Group have ordered furloughs for their employees.


The recession is a big factor in newspapers losing money, especially with steep drops in advertising revenue and stores like Circuit City and Mervyns closing their doors. I believe another factor is that newspapers didn't consider their information to be valuable enough to charge Internet users. The Wall Street Journal, for example, requires that its Web site users subscribe to its newspaper. San Francisco-based media analyst Alan D. Mutter wrote in the Los Angeles Times that the WSJ claims more than 1 million paid subscribers to its Web site "(b)y aggregating an audience of business people willing and able to pay to view its content."

The Daily Republic of Fairfield, California, also requires that its Web site visitors subscribe. About 21,000 Solano County residents are willing to pay to find out what's happening in their neighborhood. Online ads help, but information should not be free.

My stance may offend Internet users who have been accustomed to getting their news gratis. I don't know if newspaper companies charge Google for their news. If they don't, they should. If newspapers want to survive, newspaper owners have to get out of the mindset that the horse has left the barn and start charging for content. The horse is still in the barn, but is considering making a run for it.

Writing Diva