Michael Jackson memorial service

Sorry for the delayed post. I was busy getting some local reactions from folks who watched Michael Jackson's memorial service.

I covered the broadcast at Carmike 15, and watched the entire two hours. It almost reminded me of when, as a teenager, I stayed up through the wee hours of the morning watching Princess Diana's funeral.

But this was different.

Jackson's music was a soundtrack to different milestones in my life. My fifth-grade talent show solo to "Heal the World." My ex-boyfriend's homemade mix CD featuring "Beat It."

My drunk friend's midnight crooning to "Man in the Mirror." My nightly treadmill workouts fueled by "Dirty Diana."

I listened to those songs unaffected by Jackson's turbulent personal life. It was almost as if those songs were made by an alternate being who carried no distinguishing characteristics beyond recording industry talent.

I distinctly remember a point in my life when you couldn't say you liked Michael Jackson without offering this disclaimer: "But only his music."

So as I watched the king of pop's memorial service Tuesday, I was disappointed.

Disappointed that he left the world prematurely, but also disappointed in our willingness to bury Michael Jackson -- the person -- years before physically left us.