For the First Time in My Life...

...today as I watched the Michael Jackson Memorial I really, really, really wanted to witness a resurrection. I wanted Michael to pop out of that beautiful casket his body was in and be alive
-- and healed from every addiction and sorrow, too.

Of course, had that happened, his death would have been deemed a hoax, a publicity stunt, because most of the world doesn't believe in God, and without God, no resurrections!

But... I really wanted that to happen. I would have believed, and that would have been good enough for me!

So... he's gone. He's really gone. His little daughter's few words were heart-breaking and Al Sharpton's words were fabulous. I also hope what one of his brothers said will come true: "Maybe they'll leave him alone now" [the people who keep bringing up Michael's weirdness or past charges of -- but you know the story, and I will not make reference to them again].

I can't figure out what the "hold" on me is when it comes to Michel Jackson. I think I recognize his innocence and I know I vibrate violently when I think someone has been railroaded, so that's part of the reason. Another was his enormous talent. Another is his sad story.

But what lasts is that, despite everything, he never stopped loving, caring, or giving. A lot! He gave hundreds of millions of dollars away to good causes across the globe.

He opened doors that no one will ever be able to close again in the realm of race relations. He was a pioneer, a student of excellence, and a terrific friend.

I will never stop being sad for Michael Jackson, but I am enormously grateful that he lived...

His light and the effects of his talent, personality and giving will radiate outward forever.