‘Remember the Time…’mqMJtribute.br

‘Yes. I remember it very well.

I remember the obsession of wearing white gloves on my right hand. The effort I made perfecting my moonwalk on our tiled-toilet floor.  I remember trying to do the spin move but always end up banging myself somewhere hard or pointed corners.

I remember imitating every Michael Jackson move I could master. From how he wore his black fedora low to cover one side of his face, to how silly but good it felt doing the grab-the-crotch move then shout at the top of my lungs like what he does in his music videos.  Up to that dance-like-a-zombie MJ style that I enjoyed so much I never thought zombie could dance that good with the King of Pop leading every step.


How cute it was to watch that 13-year old Afro-haired Michael Jackson, who wore this yellow tie to complement his orange suit, serenading someone named Ben.

Since I heard that song, I felt someone out there could also be my Ben. Or how I wished I was Ben and MJ would be my best friend. It felt so right as if every words of his song was directed to me. That it doesn’t matter if people never liked me and all those bad things anyone would say against me because I got MJ who believes in me. That I don’t have to look that far because all the while, he was just there beside me.

‘Beat It’

I never understood then what this song was all about but, heck! I felt like dancing my ass around the house or getting myself into trouble.

The tempo was so right it felt like it’s just fair to beat someone. I never backed down from any fistfights and little did they know I always have MJ singing inside my head singing ‘Beat It’ over and over every time trouble finds me.

“I just can’t stop loving you”

It seems to me that wherever Michael Jackson goes, he’s like a god of some sort. Either the throng of fans cry their hearts out when they hear even just a single word from him, or one line from his songs. Fans would be shouting at the top of their lungs. Or they’d just faint dead when he does a moon-walk. He got this something that will make you lost in trance and you’d just be too amazed to speak any word while he performs and for a moment or two, for all you know, you feel like crying too, even if you’re just watching him on television.


Ever since the allegations of child molestation came to surface, I didn’t really know who to believe in. He became the joke of the town. He was the topic everywhere. I read everything that is not the MJ I knew before. I never read anything about how great performer he was. All I read was he’s a molester and his Neverland ranch was not a place to be for the young boys.

There are some articles confirming his sexual eccentricities, some are based on scientific evidence and other stuffs I could barely dig in. Some are just smack-to-the-face injustice that further degrade his personality and people started to forget his musical genius.

But all the while every body had their chance to ridicule him, he remained as he was. While media kept the hype about his personal life, he continued to make music. He continued to be a father to his children. He chose to stay close to that elusive quiet life that we never gave him until the very last minute of his existence.

‘Earth Song’

I was at work at the time MJ was pronounce dead somewhere in L.A. hospital. I was too busy working when I  heard this song playing over the radio and how I felt like crying for how poignant it was to hear the earth actually cry for help through MJ’s voice.  Not until it was played like four-times over the radio that I realized the icon behind the song has passed away.

‘Heal the World’

Love him or hate him, I believe Michael Jackson made this a better world through his music. His music paved a way to break that invisible barrier that divides this nation. His accounts of what truly happens between you and me and the rest of the world through his music woke us from a deep slumber and realize that all we need to do first is to look at that ‘Man in the Mirror‘ to make it right. Never mind his eccentricities over the last few years or the biased media ridiculing him every chance they can get, his message has always been clear: a better place could start within us before we can heal the world. He never lead a perfect life but he made an example to make a change. I hope that’s what we all remember of him. For me, he’s the best thing that happened in the last 50 years.

‘Gone Too Soon’

“If you enter this world knowing you are loved and you leave this world knowing the same, then everything that happens in between can be dealt with.” – Michael Jackson


LOS ANGELES – For all the hasty preparations, hand-wringing over security, breathless media competition to scoop details and soul-wrenching performances, the essence of Michael Jackson’s memorial service came down to 20 poignant, powerful seconds: the moment when 11-year-old Paris-Michael Jackson inched up to the microphone and, in a statement no one saw coming, referred to the late pop superstar as “Daddy.”

It was a remarkably humanizing moment. Then again, it was remarkable just to see Jackson’s three children in public to begin with. A fiercely protective father, Jackson rarely brought his brood out into public, covering their faces in veils and party masks to protect their identity when he did.

Now here they were, unveiled, before an audience of thousands at Staples Center and millions more around the globe.

Starting out seated in the front row, the three youngest Jacksons eventually joined the rest family onstage as the two-hour service wound to a close. Dressed in the same dark suits and yellow ties as the rest of the Jackson men, 12-year-old Michael Joseph Jr., known as Prince Michael, chewed gum and toted the memorial service program; 7-year-old Prince Michael II, known as Blanket, held his program and clutched a Michael Jackson doll.

Paris, wearing a black dress with white trim, turned a small patent-leather purse over in her hands as other family members spoke. And then a dramatic hush fell over the crowd as family members whispered that the little girl, whose lifetime of public exposure amounted to a small handful of paparazzi photographs, Paris-Michael wanted to say something. She furtively emerged from the tight circle of family members, who rushed to lower the microphone to her level.

And with her uncle Randy on one side and aunt Janet on the other, Jackson’s little girl stood center stage. “I just wanted to say,” Paris began weakly. “Speak up, sweetheart, speak up,” Janet encouraged, sweeping the girl’s long hair back. “And get close.”

Paris put one hand behind her neck, another on the microphone, and began again. “Ever since I was born, Daddy has been the best father you could ever imagine,” she said, her tiny voice cracking.

Rebbie and Marlon Jackson moved in closer to comfort their niece. She shut her eyes tight. Then she wrapped her hands — little fingernails painted red — around the microphone and fought back tears as she continued: “And I just wanted to say I love him — so much.”

She collapsed in tears into her aunt’s arms. “It’s OK, baby. It’s OK,” Janet Jackson said as she held Paris close. Prince joined in on the hug.

And all at once, Jackson wasn’t the larger-than-life King of Pop, or Wacko Jacko the tabloid freak. He was a doting father who had left three adoring young children behind.

He was “Daddy.”