TerraNova L.A.
For the Thirteenth Moonwalker
History books may say that only twelve men have walked on the surface of the Moon, but I’m posting this photo in honor of the Thirteenth Moonwalker, who not only walked the moon, but danced over it with such style and genius that he changed our own planet forever. Michael Jackson and I are of the same generation (we were born almost exactly a year apart). I feel like I grew up with him being kind of like my younger, genius brother. I watched him evolve from the youngest member of a family singing group to the undisputed King of Pop. He was all of the cool things I wanted be as a kid, but could never be: brilliant singer, songwriter, dancer, choreographer, mega-pop star. Hearing yesterday that he was suddenly gone left me with a palpable feeling of emptiness, as well as a certain sense of disbelief. I had a poignant, personal experience that turned hopeful disbelief into reality, as I was driving home yesterday afternoon on Doheny Drive in Beverly Hills. While listening to a real-time news report about Michael's body leaving the UCLA Medical Center aboard a L.A. County Sheriff's helicopter, I looked up and saw the helicopter pass close overhead on its way to the Coroner's Office. My eyes teared at the sight and I felt a lump in my throat as a feeling of genuine loss overcame me.
I know my own photographic tribute here is rather crude -- I suppose it's how one would expect a scientist to express himself, so here are some links to tributes from a few of my Flickr friends who have honored Michael in particularly beautiful ways:
For the Thirteenth Moonwalker
History books may say that only twelve men have walked on the surface of the Moon, but I’m posting this photo in honor of the Thirteenth Moonwalker, who not only walked the moon, but danced over it with such style and genius that he changed our own planet forever. Michael Jackson and I are of the same generation (we were born almost exactly a year apart). I feel like I grew up with him being kind of like my younger, genius brother. I watched him evolve from the youngest member of a family singing group to the undisputed King of Pop. He was all of the cool things I wanted be as a kid, but could never be: brilliant singer, songwriter, dancer, choreographer, mega-pop star. Hearing yesterday that he was suddenly gone left me with a palpable feeling of emptiness, as well as a certain sense of disbelief. I had a poignant, personal experience that turned hopeful disbelief into reality, as I was driving home yesterday afternoon on Doheny Drive in Beverly Hills. While listening to a real-time news report about Michael's body leaving the UCLA Medical Center aboard a L.A. County Sheriff's helicopter, I looked up and saw the helicopter pass close overhead on its way to the Coroner's Office. My eyes teared at the sight and I felt a lump in my throat as a feeling of genuine loss overcame me.
I know my own photographic tribute here is rather crude -- I suppose it's how one would expect a scientist to express himself, so here are some links to tributes from a few of my Flickr friends who have honored Michael in particularly beautiful ways: