Five Days and Counting

I didn't really miss his birthday. I thought on it. I spoke it aloud, but I didn't share with humans. Who knew what they would be doing 6 years after Michael Jackson died. I'm almost over my psychosis enough to write about it--almost. I still cry over Michael's death, and the ensuing world. People will forget. Other younger people won't really know--they'll just know the bad stories and the great videos and music. From his first time on a stge he was a charmer. As a youngster he was in an area of the recording studio, stilling with Dionne Warwick. It was only then that Michael realized that ?A Message for Michael" was not sung and recorded directly for him. He wasn't conceited. We all think like that wil less than ten years to our lives. He had 50, a short lifetime for one of my generation and age. I get older. I was 60 on my last birthday. Michael will never be bald or gray. I hope he can watch his three best children grow up in happiness, to happiness. Paris is a young lady of 16 or so now. My Daddy died when I was 19. I'm sad for the good things of my life he didn't get to know and share.

I've been missing my Daddy lately. What I wouldn't give for a Daddy hug. He died early in 1974. He didn't see me graduate from the University of Texas in 1977. How do I know if he knew those years I taught school? It matters right now, but that will pass. I've been having lots of crying jags lately. Food for my own personal Nile.