DANCING WITH MICHAEL

http://www.voiceseducation.org/content/case-study-street-bum-angel-or

Detroit, Michigan; Summer of 1981. I was with two of my long time friends at our local dance club where our favorite band plays most weekends. We are regulars there. I ordered a coke and both of my friends were appalled and demanded I purchase a real drink. What would people say if they knew I wasn't drinking? My reply was, “who cares, people can think its Rum and Coke. What difference does it make?” They insisted on buying me a real drink but I declined. I was getting tired of their discussions as if I somehow wasn't there hearing them pass judgment on me.

Just then a man came up to the table and asked me to dance. He had an Afro-style haircut, wore a long coat and rumpled clothes and looked like a bum. His voice was soft despite his rough appearance. I had a feeling this guy was someone special and my thoughts jumped to the Good Samaritan story. With absolutely no hesitation, I said “yes.” He helped me out of my chair and I led the way to the dance floor.

I'd started dancing when I was three years old and throughout my childhood I performed in dance recitals, talent shows, in hospitals and retirement homes. When I wasn't performing I was taking dance classes or practicing. I love to dance.

It has been my experience that most guys don't dance well and I usually lead on the slow ones. So I was doing my thing on the dance floor when I looked over at my partner and realized this guy was nothing short of an amazing dancer with moves I've never seen before (and I went out dancing a lot!) I was excited to find someone who could challenge me, so I stepped up my moves. Who was this guy; and how lucky was I to be dancing with him?

The song ended and I hoped we would stay for another but he walked me back to my table, thanked me for the dance with a slight bow then disappeared. My exhilaration turned to disappointment. It was too fast. We didn't even talk. I wanted more.

My reverie was cut dramatically short when both of my friends took turns reprimanding me for not only dancing with a bum but a bum who was a Black man. ‘What was I thinking anyway? I should stick to my own kind. Didn't I notice his flapping shoes?’ They told me it was embarrassing for them to be with me. I thought: “who are these people I thought were my friends? We are so very different now and I no longer seem to have anything in common with them anymore.”

Through my life, I have often thought about that evening—sometimes because of my now ex-friends'behavior and the criticism about my choices in drink and my dance partner. Mostly I think about the fact that whoever I danced with that night was someone special. It was obvious the guy was in disguise and I wondered why he would do that. Was it God testing my ability to accept people as they are and not to judge? I believe that was the case. The guy didn't smell like a street person at all. Although his clothes were worn and rumpled, they were clean. I never even noticed his floppy shoes. And you have to get past a bouncer and show your ID to get in to the place and they didn't have a problem with him. I felt very safe with this person. His energy was magnetic and he had manners far better than most guys who ask me to dance. I really wish the experience had lasted longer. It was a highlight in my life that I have returned to many, many times since and wondered who this person was and why it happened.

Cut to July 7, 2009, Staples Center; Los Angeles, California—Michael Jackson's Memorial.

His brother, Marlon, is on stage relating a story about this guy he saw in a record store. He described him as dressed in rumpled clothes, an Afro . . . I froze. He was describing the man I danced with that night in Detroit so many years earlier. He continued his story ... ‘So I said, Hi Mike, what are you doing here?’ In that moment I had absolutely no doubt whatsoever who I had danced with that night so long ago. I had danced with Michael Jackson!

I told myself it was crazy: ‘what would Michael even be doing in Detroit?’ Then I found out that in that very time frame he was on his Triumph Tour, and one of the stops was Detroit. I looked it up onWikipedia and found out they were performing on August 29th (Michael’s birthday but he and his family did not celebrate birthdays at this time) at the Joe Louis Arena which was an easy drive to the club. So it was possible. Later I saw a picture of Michael dancing with Tatum O'Neal where he was in mid-move—that distinct move. He also did it in the Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough video where first there is one of him doing it, then two and finally three. He leans back a certain way with his leg in a specific position. That was the move I saw across from me on the dance floor back in Detroit.

Now that I know it was him, I wish more than ever we had danced longer, exchanged a few words, and that he might have revealed himself. That evening when I left the club, feeling a bit down from the treatment from my so-called friends, and the all too short time with the mystery dancer, the bouncer made an odd comment to me that made no sense at the time. I remember this because he rarely spoke to me beyond "ID please" and "go on in" but whatever he said was something about my dancing that lifted my spirits a little even though it was cryptic. Now, knowing who I danced with that night, I realize his comment must have been something about me dancing with Michael without coming right out and saying it given the man’s desire and need to be in disguise. He had to have known since he checked everyone's ID in this small place and he had a bird's eye view of the action, including the dance floor.

I don't know why I chose not to have alcohol that evening but I think none of this would have happened if I had indulged, especially now knowing that at that time, Michael did not drink. No matter how short that moment when I didn’t know who I was with, it was already tucked away as a standout experience in my memory. Now it is something I will be eternally grateful for having in my life. It fits with the message Michael Jackson told repeatedly: “It doesn't matter what we look like, we are all a part of each other. Don't judge, accept and above all L.O.V.E.”

Description of Michael illustration by the Author Large Afro wig, large oversized eyebrows and moustache (An Afro haircut was a style in the 1970s characterized by a bushy head of hair shaped like a bubble usually worn by African Americans that connoted pride in one’s race. The racial pride movement began with James Brown’s song I’m Black and I’m Proud) When the author got up to go to the dance floor, she looked into his face which is how she identified he was in disguise; she saw a smaller face hiding under the large Afro and excessive facial brows and moustache. His face seemed a confirmation that he was someone safe, kind and trustworthy – which was unusual for her as she rarely trusted anyone. He wore a long duster type coat, below the knee in length; the color was a faded grey or brown The duster and pants worn were baggy and rumpled but clean. They were definitely too big for his frame; the person was almost swimming in them. His shoes were tattered and the soles were loose.