It was either the fall or winter of 1983 or 1984. I was about four years old and I was holed up in a San Diego hospital intensive care unit for about six months. Without getting too much into the back story, I was crossing the street and was struck by a drunk driver. My recollection from this time is obviously very fuzzy and consist of mashed-up stories from my dad, mom, brothers and sisters.To this day all I’ve gathered of what really happened is tidbits of words like “near death,” “unrecognizable,” and “blood transfusions.” I can, however, vaguely remember being in a hospital bed, having faces looking down at me, people trying to make laugh, and never once wondering why I couldn’t move or how I had gotten there.

As it was, at four years old I was in a complete body cast, left leg held up by metal rods, the whole shebang. The only actual pain or suffering I can recall is the frustrating urge of not being able scratch every itch.

My family and hospital staff went above and beyond trying to please me. Getting me whatever meal I wanted, keeping me company, making me laugh (I often blame them now for my selfishness and spoiled behavior).

There was only one thing that really brought me back to life, they say. And so the story goes: As soon as anyone  played “Billie Jean,” I’d try to shake around in the bed, but I couldn’t move! So I’d just wiggle my toes!

My family became fascinated by how this one song constantly put a smile on my face and made me utterly happy. They’d play it over and over again so visitors could see me in good spirits. My father even joked that perhaps during my blood transfusion, the doctors must have given me some of Michael’s DNA. Being completely gullible and always believing whatever my father said, I thought this notion was true. For years afterward, if anyone made racist jokes about African Americans, I would remind them that I was partially black.

Time passed, yet anytime I’d hear negative news about Michael Jackson I’d brush it off as hearsay. Instead, I’d recall the time when he made me want to move again.