Children living at the temporary housing complex in Okinawa, Japan, assemble the Yuuki Flower sculpture from its components for display in the community market and exhibition space. Daisuke Takeya (blond hair) and Chie Kajiwara (white t-shirt), the curators of the Field Trip Project, assist. It feels fantastic to see so much enthusiasm and interaction with our sculpture. It’s exactly the kind of experience that the art was designed to hopefully generate.
A friend’s son made a Happy Sleepy by tearing into a magazine page. He also drew the eyes with a pen, but it’s hard to see in the photo.
And so it came to pass that my Michael was asked to speak at Oxford, a seat of great learning in the United Kingdom. Many leading intellectuals and scholars had gathered for his address, including the rabbi Shmuley.
Michael began*,
Tonight, I come before you less as an icon of pop (whatever that means anyway), and more as an icon of a generation, a generation that no longer knows what it means to be children.
Every night of every week of every year Michael would share his bed with children. He would share his bed with children regardless of race, creed or economic background. He would open his bed to children of all ages. His love knew no bounds.
The people of the day were concerned.
Adults do not sleep with children, they said. The people’s minds were filled with craven images, filled with the sins and filth of the world. They could not imagine how an adult might sleep with a child without all that sin and filth creeping in and soiling the thought. They would send reporters and detectives to Neverland to investigate Michael.
When they came to him with accusations he would say to them,
Why can’t you share your bed?
The most loving thing to do is to share your bed with someone. It is where you are most vulnerable. It is the greatest act of trust.
There was boy in California, in the city of Los Angeles, who lay dying of cancer. The doctors predicted that he would die in the coming week.
Weakened by radiation and the grim news, the boy said to his father, “Before I die I would like to meet Michael Jackson.”
His father knew in his heart that being a man of limited means he would never be able to fulfill such a request. When he left the room he collapsed in tears.
In blind desperation the father telephoned Neverland and left this message: “My son is dying of terminal cancer and has only a week to live. His greatest wish is to be able to talk to Michael Jackson.”
The message was delivered, and the next day Michael telephoned the boy.
