I met Michael when he was in disguise. It's a very, very long story on the how, where and when details so I'm just going to focus on HOW I REALIZED I met him.
(I tried to make it as short as possible for you all to understand the surrounding situation)
It all initially began in August of 1982 when my then-husband tricked me into going to Los Angeles County to visit his relatives with him. Because our marriage was a bit destructive and rocky and his intentions were less than honorable, circumstances arose that were well beyond my control. What was to ONLY be a few days visit, turned into an unplanned extended stay. During the Fall of this time is when Michael Jackson and my path crossed for the first time. And then, several times thereafter. I left Los Angeles County around the end of March 1983, just a few days short of my 20th Birthday. The following story is about how I figured out that I MET MICHAEL JACKSON.
That March, when I got home to the Bay Area, my husband and I parted ways. In June of that same year I traveled with my family in a Motor Home to visit my stepfather’s relatives in St Louis, Missouri, where I realized I was pregnant. When I got back home, I went to the doctor and then told my husband that I was pregnant and the due date. Well, his comment about the pregnancy wasn't what I expected, but I figured he was talking out of anger because we were no longer together. So, I didn't give it a second thought about what he said and we remained separated.
My husband came over on Thanksgiving Day. While I was helping with preparations, he just sat and watched television. Honestly I didn't grow up watching t.v., it was my stepfathers’ pride and joy and we knew not to touch, so I never ever bothered. Well, while my husband sat and watched tv, he blurted out "Oh Michelle, Michael Jackson stole your dance step." Okay, that sounded so silly I didn't even bother taking my pregnant self even one step to look at what he was talking about, and my stepfathers’ reclining chair blocked the t.v. so I didn't see what show was on. (However, I do know what show he was watching now). I couldn't even remember the last time I had danced, since I felt like I was pregnant forever.
In December 83, I moved into a two-bedroom apartment with my daughter while I waited for my due date on the 20th of that month. The due date came and went. Then around Christmas my husband and I reconciled. But it just wasn't meant to be. Later that Christmas night my husband poured me a glass full of alcohol and was expecting me at nine months pregnant to drink it. I just fell asleep on the floor looking at the glass, not even knowing at that time the effects of alcohol on the fetus. I surely did not drink it, not even a sip.
New Year's 84' had past and still no baby. The second week of January my husband went to jail for trying to steal money from an undercover police officer who was dressed as a bum. Well anyway, I didn't want to be alone when I went into labor so I stayed with my family. A week or so later my water broke and I had my son during an emergency C-section.
After I got home with my newborn, I found out my husband wouldn't be getting out of jail until sometime in April. So of course, I have a two year old and a new baby to take care on my own and it was hard, cause the C-section left me really unable to hold my baby. I was thankful that I had family near to help.
Okay, now during the time my husband was in jail, his dad decided to bring over a small black and white television. I had never watched t.v. so it sat there for a month without me even turning it on. And besides watching two children, I had no time to watch t.v. anyway. Around late February, early March, I decided to turn it on. The channel that it was on was airing the 700 Club and I just started watching it all day and all night, praying with the host and praying on my own. I prayed before, but this was somehow different. The words and thoughts that started going through my mind made me seek peace in my heart and soul. I wrote to my husband and told him when he got out I wanted him to watch the show, to help us with our marriage.
I told him that I was going to write down how I was feeling inside. I knew I felt something so strong but I couldn't explain exactly what. Unfortunately, I never got a free second to write anything down until my husband got out of jail in early April.
The day he got out of jail, I tried to get him to watch the 700 Club, but it was futile. But God wouldn't let me rest with the thoughts and feelings I had inside. He put a pen in my hand and placed paper in front of me. I wrote and wrote for almost two days straight, I just couldn't stop until every single word in my heart was on paper. The very first thing I wrote was entitled "Precious People." It started off with,
"Everyone needs a friend
I'll be yours till the end
No matter what color you may be
Precious People is what I see"
and it went on until I exhausted all my thoughts into words. I had written at least 20 separate "poems" and then I just stopped writing. Even though I had stopped writing down my words, God just wouldn't let me rest, it was like there was more for me to see or do, but I sure couldn’t' figure it out.
Then, my husband and I went over to some neighbors for just a few minutes and their t.v. was on louder than necessary, but I paid no attention to it, but as we were leaving all of a sudden whatever program was on, the person on t.v. had said "Michael Jackson had been burned in an accident." Gosh, my heart went out to him, cause I was burned too and my heart immediately wished him well. And I said to my husband what was said on t.v., but he just shrugged his shoulders and didn’t comment.
It must have been a tape or some show that just happened to be talking about it, cause it was mid April 84 and his accident was in January.
When we got back to our apartment, that urgency feeling came over me again and I just felt I had to do something with the poems I had written. So I said to my husband "what should I do with the poems" and he all of sudden said, sarcastically, "send them to Michael Jackson." I told him that was a good idea and so I went over to the Super Market across from our apartment complex and looked in one of the books there and wrote down a fan mail address. I didn't even know his age, race, or anything about him, cause when I was growing up, only stars I knew about were the ones in the sky. As a matter of fact, I had never even read the magazines or read any tabloids. Those were people on the covers I didn't know, so why read about them? I was living my life and there was enough drama.
Well anyway, I sent him the first poem I had written "Precious People" because I thought he could relate to that one the best. I wasn't expecting a reply, I was just glad to get it out of my hands cause God wasn't going to let me just sit on what I had written.
A week or so later I had gone to the supermarket to buy some groceries or something and when I was on my way back, just about to cross the street, a white limo had just passed by, I only noticed it because I had never seen a limo before, but I really paid it no attention other than that. As soon as I got into our apartment my husband was waiting for me and said in an annoying voice, which I won't forget, "I got a secret, I got a secret," like an elementary child teasing his playmates. I could really care less about his secret and it didn't even cross my mind anymore. But all of a sudden, my husband, the drinker, smoker, curser, and what not, all of a sudden acted like now he wants to be saved, and I was cool with that. That's all I wanted, for our marriage to work and I knew that was the only way.
We started reading the bible together and he had a friend over, reading, and I thought he was serious about turning his life around. I thought the fighting, arguing and the negative stuff would cease, but, I was being tricked, he was faking. Whatever secret he had was eating him up inside, but he didn't want me to know what that secret was. I caught him doing all the same stuff and I was disappointed, but I was going to stick in there with him for better or worse.
Sometime during that same month of April, my stepfather brought us over his old stereo that had a radio. I had never turned it on, but my husband would from time to time, especially when I was in the shower. I didn't know why, but when one song in particular was on the radio he seemed to turn it on the loudest level so I would be sure to hear it. That song reminded me of something, someone, but I just couldn't remember what or who. I later found out the song was "Tell me I'm not Dreamin'" by Michael and his brother and the song spoke volumes regarding the time I spent in Los Angeles County.
By the end of April, whatever my husband knew was reflecting in his attitude toward me and our children. The fighting brought the police and my children were caught in the middle. I was at the end of the rope and there was no more to reach for. The last day of April he started a big fight that left my daughter scared so badly, that she ran into her room and hid in the closet. Then and there I realized that no matter how strong I try to be, I couldn't let my children suffer in the madness. I had to realize that when God said "Till death ye part," I knew that's not what he had in mind. I had been praying silently all night for guidance, because I truly needed answers and I needed answers soon, because the danger was just too great to continue on.
So, the next day, May 1st, came and I sat silently in our kitchen, thinking about what was going to happen next. My husband had left the house. I started praying so hard to God, asking him, no begging him to let me out of this marriage. I told him that I'm trying to be strong, but my children can't survive like this. I began telling God that I would not remarry if he let me out, I would refrain from sexual thoughts, I would take care of my children and ensured God that I would be there for them ALWAYS.
Well, believe me or not, on this sunny day, out of nowhere, a ray of light beamed down into the window, encompassing the whole window into our small kitchen. It was nothing like I've ever seen before. I knew that was my sign, that was MY ray of hope. God has seen, he has heard and he is speaking to let me know, it's all right to leave to allow my children to live their lives. And something said to me "Don't tell, just leave." (Which I would advise to all women in this sort of situation). I called my mom, gathered mine and my children's clothes and I was gone before my husband got back. I Left him everything except the black & white television, which I thought was fair, considering I couldn’t carry away the five feet long or so Stereo system that my stepfather had given us.
I never looked back or had any regrets on leaving him. God took him out of my mind, out of my heart, so that I could continue on, without hurt or pain of leaving someone I truly cared about.
I moved back with my family. They were so happy that I had finally come to my senses and left him for good. But, of course we had children together and that kind of bound us. My husband started coming by "to see the kids," but he just wanted to bother me, beg me back. When that was to no avail, he suggested I go fishing on a boat with him and his dad, which of course we had NEVER DONE BEFORE, and of course I refused to go anywhere beyond my front yard with him. I also gave the t.v. back to him.
The month of May was passing by and I was adjusting with my children. I had one younger sister and one younger brother living there as well who were 10 and 13 years old, respectfully. I don't know when it happened, but they both started getting into putting pictures of people, from, I guess magazines, all around their room walls. I never asked where they got them. But, one day while in my sisters' room, I notice a picture of someone that looked familiar, but I thought to myself, I didn't know anyone that would be in the magazines, so I just dismissed it and went on about my business. As the days went by, my sister and brother were getting more aggressive with each other as to who could put the most PICS on their wall. And again there was another picture on the wall of the same someone, who looked different from the PIC before, but WAS the same person according to the name under each picture. Okay, now I started looking around the room at other pictures and recognized a picture with a look and beautiful smile that I was sure I had seen somewhere at sometime, but for the life of me, I couldn't remember where or when. So, I just stopped looking at the pictures because it was kind of creeping me out. I never even bothered to go into my brother's room to look at his pictures on the wall because I never was into that, nor were my older brothers or sisters that I recall.
Anyway, my younger brother and sister got into an argument over the pictures and they had to remove them all and could only put one picture on their wall. Secretly, I was happy that they had to take them down because it was weird (to me) to put pictures of people you don't know all over your bedroom walls. And besides, I would no longer ponder about the faces that looked familiar to me but, not being able to place where or when.
Well, I don't know which, if any picture was put up by my brother, but I found, as I walked into my sister's room, she did put ONE abnormally huge picture/poster onto her wall. And this picture, this FACE, I DEFINITELY REMEMBERED. When I walked into her room, I looked up and seen this huge face of a person I HAD met, the stare in his eyes felt like they were piercing into the windows of my soul and it was as if HE knew when I saw THIS face that the memories would come rushing through my mind, my heart and my soul. I dropped to my knees and pounded my fist on the floor and I cried, not because I was mad or sad, but because the feelings were overwhelming and at that moment in time I had recently made a promise to God that I would refrain from certain thoughts, but it was too late, because now that I remembered, I couldn't convince my heart, my mind nor my soul to forget the things we said, but more important, the things we did. While trying to figure some of this out I found this quote from MJ or one that he is/was fond of . . .
To Take a Picture
Is to Capture a Moment
To Stop Time
To Preserve the Way We Were
The Way We Are . . .
Of course, I considered the fact that I was just imagining all this or dreamed this scenario somehow, so I decided to see if my husband had any comment to this discovery I made. So, one day, around late May or early June 84, when my husband came by as usual to irritate me, I let him in and led him to my sister's room (he didn't know which room I was occupying). When he got to the door of her room he STOPPED and stared in silence at that picture/poster of MJ on her wall for about five seconds, I tried to see his reaction from the corner of my eye, but without him saying even ONE word, my husband turned around and walked straight out of the front door and NEVER came back. He never bothered me again, not even to see the kids, and he didn't contest the divorce proceedings.
Okay there's more, but I'm going to end this here. I just want to say one more thing about this, and that is, if Michael didn't want me to know I met him, I'm sure he wouldn't have given any clues, both visually and musically. And, if I hadn't left my husband, I surely would not have seen or heard ANYTHING.
Maybe, one day I'll share the circumstances on how I actually unknowingly met MJ on several different occasions and what happened that brought him into my life again and again. I must admit that I did get upset in 1990/91 about his disguises, which were unlike, the mask disguises. Thankfully, God let me see clearly, well before the trial began.
PEACE
© 2008
