Wingfoot
Proud Member
Re: MJ's Speech at Oxford University (about childhood, parenting)
There was a link posted (by Andrew Ryan) to Michael's speech at Oxford University in 2001 in the "Michael's father is still upbeat" thread (http://www.mjjcommunity.com/forum/showthread.php?t=67911&page=5)
Upon finding a transcript of the speech (http://www.allmichaeljackson.com/speeches/oxforduni01.html), I decided to post a snippet of what he wrote about his father.
_____________________
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]You probably weren't surprised to hear that I did not have an idyllic childhood. The strain and tension that exists in my relationship with my own father is well documented. My father is a tough man and he pushed my brothers and me hard, from the earliest age, to be the best performers we could be.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]He had great difficulty showing affection. He never really told me he loved me. And he never really complimented me either. If I did a great show, he would tell me it was a good show. And if I did an OK show, he told me it was a lousy show. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]He seemed intent, above all else, on making us a commercial success. And at that he was more than adept. My father was a managerial genius and my brothers and I owe our professional success, in no small measure, to the forceful way that he pushed us. He trained me as a showman and under his guidance I couldn't miss a step. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]But what I really wanted was a Dad. I wanted a father who showed me love. And my father never did that. He never said I love you while looking me straight in the eye, he never played a game with me. He never gave me a piggyback ride, he never threw a pillow at me, or a water balloon.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]But I remember once when I was about four years old, there was a little carnival and he picked me up and put me on a pony. It was a tiny gesture, probably something he forgot five minutes later. But because of that moment I have this special place in my heart for him. Because that's how kids are, the little things mean so much to them and for me, that one moment meant everything. I only experienced it that one time, but it made me feel really good, about him and the world. [/FONT]
......
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]And when I think about this, of how I hope that my children will not judge me unkindly, and will forgive my shortcomings, I am forced to think of my own father and despite my earlier denials, I am forced to admit that me must have loved me. He did love me, and I know that. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]There were little things that showed it. When I was a kid I had a real sweet tooth - we all did. My favourite food was glazed doughnuts and my father knew that. So every few weeks I would come downstairs in the morning and there on the kitchen counter was a bag of glazed doughnuts - no note, no explanation - just the doughnuts. It was like Santa Claus. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]Sometimes I would think about staying up late at night, so I could see him leave them there, but just like with Santa Claus, I didn't want to ruin the magic for fear that he would never do it again. My father had to leave them secretly at night, so as no one might catch him with his guard down. He was scared of human emotion, he didn't understand it or know how to deal with it. But he did know doughnuts. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]And when I allow the floodgates to open up, there are other memories that come rushing back, memories of other tiny gestures, however imperfect, that showed that he did what he could. So tonight, rather than focusing on what my father didn't do, I want to focus on all the things he did do and on his own personal challenges. I want to stop judging him. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]I have started reflecting on the fact that my father grew up in the South, in a very poor family. He came of age during the Depression and his own father, who struggled to feed his children, showed little affection towards his family and raised my father and his siblings with an iron fist. Who could have imagined what it was like to grow up a poor black man in the South, robbed of dignity, bereft of hope, struggling to become a man in a world that saw my father as subordinate. I was the first black artist to be played on MTV and I remember how big a deal it was even then. And that was in the 80s! [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]My father moved to Indiana and had a large family of his own, working long hours in the steel mills, work that kills the lungs and humbles the spirit, all to support his family. Is it any wonder that he found it difficult to expose his feelings? Is it any mystery that he hardened his heart, that he raised the emotional ramparts? And most of all, is it any wonder why he pushed his sons so hard to succeed as performers, so that they could be saved from what he knew to be a life of indignity and poverty?[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]I have begun to see that even my father's harshness was a kind of love, an imperfect love, to be sure, but love nonetheless. He pushed me because he loved me. Because he wanted no man ever to look down at his offspring. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]And now with time, rather than bitterness, I feel blessing. In the place of anger, I have found absolution. And in the place of revenge I have found reconciliation. And my initial fury has slowly given way to forgiveness. [/FONT]
______________________
I highly recommend reading the whole thing... It's a beautiful speech, will make you tear up.
What are your thoughts?
There was a link posted (by Andrew Ryan) to Michael's speech at Oxford University in 2001 in the "Michael's father is still upbeat" thread (http://www.mjjcommunity.com/forum/showthread.php?t=67911&page=5)
Upon finding a transcript of the speech (http://www.allmichaeljackson.com/speeches/oxforduni01.html), I decided to post a snippet of what he wrote about his father.
_____________________
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]You probably weren't surprised to hear that I did not have an idyllic childhood. The strain and tension that exists in my relationship with my own father is well documented. My father is a tough man and he pushed my brothers and me hard, from the earliest age, to be the best performers we could be.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]He had great difficulty showing affection. He never really told me he loved me. And he never really complimented me either. If I did a great show, he would tell me it was a good show. And if I did an OK show, he told me it was a lousy show. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]He seemed intent, above all else, on making us a commercial success. And at that he was more than adept. My father was a managerial genius and my brothers and I owe our professional success, in no small measure, to the forceful way that he pushed us. He trained me as a showman and under his guidance I couldn't miss a step. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]But what I really wanted was a Dad. I wanted a father who showed me love. And my father never did that. He never said I love you while looking me straight in the eye, he never played a game with me. He never gave me a piggyback ride, he never threw a pillow at me, or a water balloon.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]But I remember once when I was about four years old, there was a little carnival and he picked me up and put me on a pony. It was a tiny gesture, probably something he forgot five minutes later. But because of that moment I have this special place in my heart for him. Because that's how kids are, the little things mean so much to them and for me, that one moment meant everything. I only experienced it that one time, but it made me feel really good, about him and the world. [/FONT]
......
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]And when I think about this, of how I hope that my children will not judge me unkindly, and will forgive my shortcomings, I am forced to think of my own father and despite my earlier denials, I am forced to admit that me must have loved me. He did love me, and I know that. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]There were little things that showed it. When I was a kid I had a real sweet tooth - we all did. My favourite food was glazed doughnuts and my father knew that. So every few weeks I would come downstairs in the morning and there on the kitchen counter was a bag of glazed doughnuts - no note, no explanation - just the doughnuts. It was like Santa Claus. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]Sometimes I would think about staying up late at night, so I could see him leave them there, but just like with Santa Claus, I didn't want to ruin the magic for fear that he would never do it again. My father had to leave them secretly at night, so as no one might catch him with his guard down. He was scared of human emotion, he didn't understand it or know how to deal with it. But he did know doughnuts. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]And when I allow the floodgates to open up, there are other memories that come rushing back, memories of other tiny gestures, however imperfect, that showed that he did what he could. So tonight, rather than focusing on what my father didn't do, I want to focus on all the things he did do and on his own personal challenges. I want to stop judging him. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]I have started reflecting on the fact that my father grew up in the South, in a very poor family. He came of age during the Depression and his own father, who struggled to feed his children, showed little affection towards his family and raised my father and his siblings with an iron fist. Who could have imagined what it was like to grow up a poor black man in the South, robbed of dignity, bereft of hope, struggling to become a man in a world that saw my father as subordinate. I was the first black artist to be played on MTV and I remember how big a deal it was even then. And that was in the 80s! [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]My father moved to Indiana and had a large family of his own, working long hours in the steel mills, work that kills the lungs and humbles the spirit, all to support his family. Is it any wonder that he found it difficult to expose his feelings? Is it any mystery that he hardened his heart, that he raised the emotional ramparts? And most of all, is it any wonder why he pushed his sons so hard to succeed as performers, so that they could be saved from what he knew to be a life of indignity and poverty?[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]I have begun to see that even my father's harshness was a kind of love, an imperfect love, to be sure, but love nonetheless. He pushed me because he loved me. Because he wanted no man ever to look down at his offspring. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]And now with time, rather than bitterness, I feel blessing. In the place of anger, I have found absolution. And in the place of revenge I have found reconciliation. And my initial fury has slowly given way to forgiveness. [/FONT]
______________________
I highly recommend reading the whole thing... It's a beautiful speech, will make you tear up.
What are your thoughts?
thats for posting
