Neighborhood Sounds.

Every car passing on my street in the hours and now days since the announcement of Michael Jackson's death has been blasting Jackson, from Jackson 5 to Thriller. While I missed the cultural resonance personally - I never liked his lyrics and I like lyrics, so I never got the fever and importance of his art - I can't help but feel, here in my diverse neighborhood, that he made an unmistakable impact.

That sounds like understatement in the face of the wild praise and mourning the world is experiencing right now. Forgive me. He may have been the king with glorious and innovative dance moves and an ability to meld various, disparate styles. He may have been a pioneering freak who slipped outside the boundaries of what is acceptible behavior in our society. He may have been a big spender, a boy obsessed with whiteness and youth. He may have even been a pedophile. Whatever he was, I must admit that while his influence missed me, it did not miss the world around me, even my immediate world, my street.