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