Do you remember the time?

I was four years old the summer after Thriller was released (release date: November 1982), and my father had died that June. I was spending some half days at a babysitter's house. I suppose it was a daycare of sorts since there were other children there, but it wasn't a formal daycare business, just a woman with a young son of her own who watched other children in her home.

There were two things I loved about that daycare: first, she had the complete collection of the Mr. Men and Little Miss books. You know--Mr. Grumpy, Mr. Messy, Little Miss Bossy, Little Miss Giggles. God, I loved those books. I'd make a beeline for the shelf where she kept them and hover in delicious agony for a moment--would I reread an old favorite (Mr. Bump!) or choose a brand new one to read first?

And yes, I could read at age four. Thanks, mom!

The other thing I loved was this miniature four-wheeler her son had. It was kept in the basement, which was basically a big rec room. You know, a place for all the big toys and ugly furniture so that the upstairs living room could look halfway decent. Now, I don't know if this detail is accurate or if I imagined it, but I remember that it ran on Kool-Aid. Hm.

I loved to go into the basement with this lady's son and take turns (read: fight for a turn) riding his Kool-Aid-fueled four-wheeler around in circles. And while we rode, we listened to Michael Jackson.

Thriller was (and still is!) the shit, and we listened to it over and over. I remember being really confused by the lyrics to "Beat It." Beat what? I pictured him hitting something with a stick, or trying to beat the record in some sporting event.

The only other thing I remember from that period of time was that the son and I (I can't even remember his name!) got busted "playing doctor" behind an armchair. It was a "you show me yours, I'll show you mine" type of arrangement, but his mother must have heard the four-wheeler stop running because she came downstairs and put an end to things before I had to ante up. After my mom picked me up that day we went to a diner (which we never did) and we sat down and had lunch and I got the "we don't show our private parts to other people" lecture. I was mortified. Ah, childhood.

My other big "Michael memory" was when Dangerous came out in 1991. I think I remember being some sort of Egyptian-type character for Halloween around then, which might explain why I thought that this was the coolest music video of all time:



Oh, I just adore that gold jacket! And the group dance scene halfway through!

Thank you for your music, Michael. Rest in peace.