When I think of Michael Jackson, I always remember my 21st birthday party. I was living in Barbados with my mom and my aunt. They agreed to spend the night at a cousin's house, so they could sleep - West Indian parties (fetes) go on till almost dawn.
My (now) husband Ron's younger brother Ian had some crazy friends who were getting into the fete-lighting business. Since they had no money to buy 'real' equipment, their operation was all homemade, jury-rigged stuff, and my fete was the guinea pig. They rigged up a rotating disco ball, strobe lights, black lights, you name it. It was a mass of wires and questionable connections, but we had faith! Every stick of furniture was moved out of the living room so there could be no sitting down - dancing only. Ian, Ron and I were the DJs, and music from MJ's "Off the Wall" and "Thriller" albums were constantly requested. People couldn't get enough! The dance floor rocked till about 3 am, with miraculously not a single spark from a wire or window broken from the mega-watt speakers we had rented.
Then all the lights and wires came down, the furniture replaced, and when the older folk returned later that morning, it was like nothing had ever happened. We gave them details of the fete, but conveniently left out the part about the potential incendiary extras that had been added to their home! That was my most memorable birthday, thanks in large part to the music of Michael Jackson. I hope he's now dancing up a storm in the sky.