Our childhood rests in peace: Brian’s earliest Michael Jackson memory

My mom recently reminded me that when I was little I approached an African-American gentleman after a session of YMCA Gym & Swim and innocently asked him, “Do You Know Michael Jackson?”

Growing up in the Chicago suburbs, he probably looked a lot more like Michael Jackson than any other person I’d seen. Growing up at that time I also remember moonwalking across the wooden dining room floor in socks with my older sister. Unfortunately, neither of these are my most vivid memory of MJ – as that is reserved for a more unsettling recollection: that “Thriller” scared the shit out of me.

It was a great video, but all I knew at that age was that “Thriller” scared the shit out of me. Like when a fanged Jackson screams “get away!” and you watch him turn into a werewolf!? That shit was scary. Or when Michael goes green and his zombie dance crew surrounds his hapless date. That shit was scary.

But the most frightening bit by far, and what came to me immediately when I thought about my first impressions of Michael Jackson, was the inimitable voice of Vincent Price. I remember hearing “Thriller” tons of times in my youth because everybody owned that album. I remember anticipating when Price’s part comes in; when MJ stops singing, the bass and funk guitar keep grooving, a funeral organ comes in, and then the creepiest voice in history begins, “Darkness falls across the land…” I remember excusing myself from wherever I was – a playroom, a backyard, a birthday party – so I could get out of earshot from that terrifying laugh of his.

Despite all this, my enthusiasm for Jackson didn’t dissipate much over the years. Apparently my Thillerphobia didn’t even prevent me from accosting strangers about their affiliation to The King of Pop.