When someone dies, I immediately look back on my life. What am I doing? Not Doing? Am I happy? Big problems suddenly become small. I do a reckoning of sorts about myself. Michael Jackson...Farrah Fawcett...wow. Damn I feel old. I remember Michael Jackson coming in and single-handedly save the music industry from dire straights (not the band) with "Billy Jean" helped with the cool long format zombie MTV video. I remember all my friends having the infamous Farrah Fawcett poster on their walls to dream and drool over. I didn't, my favorite angel was Jacklyn Smith, then later Cheryl Ladd. So many woman, girls, even all my baby-sitters had the Farrah hair-do. Moon-walking, blond hair flipping, single-glove wearing, wide white pearly teeth smiling wanna-be's came out from all walks of life, all over the world strutting their stuff. It made you smile.
However they lived their imperfect lives, their ripple touched millions of people. I am grateful for my imperfect life and I hope that I can someday "have a justified life", quoting from the Sam Peckinpah film "Ride the High Country".