The Last Christmas

The Last Christmas
Posted by: Raven on: December 24 2012

It’s that time of year, when out thoughts turn to home and family. Where were you Christmas of 2008? None of us had any idea this would be Michael Jackson’s last Christmas. But perhaps Michael had some inkling; some foreboding or inner sense-as those whose time is drawing near often do-that this would be his children’s last Christmas with Daddy. Perhaps that might explain why, according to Carrie Fisher’s account, he sought especially hard that year to make sure everything was recorded. Here is her account of that last Christmas, as excerpted from her 2011 book Shockaholic. I’m going to print her unfiltered version below, but with some important follow-up commentary afterward. Although there are some things in this account I take issue with-which I will get to shortly-I am nevertheless grateful for this account which gives us a very precious glimpse of what Michael’s last Christmas was like.

On Christmas Eve 2008 — Michael’s last — I went over to his house, which is located just down the hill from me and a few blocks over. He was giving his children the childhood that he never had. A childhood outside of celebrity with people who didn’t objectify them. Because normally, for Michael, life was like being an animal at the zoo. An endangered species forever behind bars. I could get in the cage with Michael and not get freaked out, and there weren’t that many people who would’ve known how to, or known that it was even something they might actually be required to do when with him. But I did.So I joined Michael after hours at his zoo. We took pictures and ate cookies and decorated the tree.And then, to change it up, Michael asked me to do the Star Wars hologram speech for his kids. I didn’t mind. Someone actually had to remind me what a big Star Wars fan Michael was.While I was there, though, we weren’t really experiencing the situation for the most part, we were taking pictures of it. Arnie took pictures of me and Michael and the kids, and I took pictures of Arnie and his friends and the Michael family package. My favorite was taking a picture of Michael reading my book “Wishful Drinking.”

I will always cherish that weird Christmas configuration of ours. Looking back, it was as if Michael didn’t know how to just be in a situation without recording it on a camera. The thing is, he was just so used to being documented. But the main reason the documentation came up this time was mostly for Arnie’s friends, who wanted to take pictures of their meeting with Michael so they could carry his shine around. The encounter elevated them. It became, “Oh, I had Christmas Eve dinner with Michael Jackson. What did you do?” Anyway, we all f*cked around holiday style and having fun, and it was fun. We took pictures, we acted childish (at least I think that’s what it was). At some point, Michael said, “Okay, I’m letting you take my kids’ pictures because I know that you won’t show them to anyone.”

He wanted his children to be as unrecorded as possible. If the Africans believe that you lose a piece of your soul each time you have your picture taken, then Michael hadn’t had one for a very long time. But he was trying to arrange things so that his kids could keep theirs. And his children are very sweet, good children. And that’s because whatever else he was or wasn’t, I think Michael was a really good father. I mean, his children are kind, really polite, even-tempered, and essentially unspoiled kids. And that can’t come from a nanny. You can’t fake that stuff. It has to come from the parent. And that parent was Michael.-Carrie Fisher, Excerpted From Shockaholic, Simon & Schuster.

Now about that “zoo” comment-my first impulse on reading that was, no, Carrie, you didn’t join him at his zoo. You joined him at his home. The home he shared with his three children. I wonder how she would like it if someone described her home that way? “Oh, I went over to Carrie Fisher’s zoo for the holidays.” Hmm. But you know what? I get the context of what she’s saying. And given that context-how Michael had been forced to pretty much live his entire life from inside a fish bowl-I get what she is trying to say. I understand it perfectly. So I’ll forgive her that quip. Onwards.

She did get what turned out to be one of my absolute favorite photos of Michael. It’s funny because I actually saw this photo circulating for some time around the internet (long before Fisher’s book) and had no idea when and where it was taken. Knowing its actual history-that it was taken at home during Michael’s last Christmas celebration-lends a lot of poignancy to the photo.

But that brings me to the next thing I wanted to address. This issue of the incessant photo taking that Christmas.

Obviously, Fisher doesn’t seem to have a high opinion of Arnie Klein and his buddy Jason. I imagine what she’s saying is pretty much true. But then again, let’s put ourselves in their place and be perfectly, 100% honest with ourselves. If any of us were lucky enough to spend Christmas at Michael Jackson’s house, wouldn’t we do the same thing? Perhaps. But then again, there is a supposed to be a line between how a fan would behave, as opposed to a friend. That’s why they are friends, and not fans. Supposedly. Okay, enough of that rant. For now.

Arnie’s and Jason’s desire to “carry his shine around” notwithstanding, why would she think it so “odd” and noteworthy that Michael wanted to take lots of photos and record the celebration? Don’t millions of parents around the world do just that with their kids and families during holiday festivities? I’ve never been to a holiday family get-together yet when a camera wasn’t the central focus. For most of us, recording our memories-the driving need to document and preserve them for posterity-is simply something we take for granted. Especially when it comes to our kids. Why would Michael have been any different?



But she does make a point. Michael did seem, throughout his life, to have this fevered urgency to record/document almost everything. This was true of his rehearsals and performances. In some ways, it was equally true of his life in general. I don’t even know that I totally agree with the comment that he wanted his children “as unrecorded as possible.” This isn’t exactly borne out by the evidence, since we have virtually every stage of his children’s lives recorded and documented in some form, whether it be photo shoots or home videos. Granted, we the public didn’t have access to everything, but that is as it should be. Still, it was enough to make us question-seriously-if Michael was ever really either as reclusive or as paranoid about his children’s safety as some accounts would have us believe. In any event, that Michael was so assidious about the need to document his life is perhaps a blessing for all of us who have come to appreciate that life. I, for one, am certainly grateful that he kept those cameras rolling. Pictures and videos are always worth a thousand words. And perhaps, deep down-just as his instinct was clever and smart enough to have his own camera crew on board during the Martin Bashir interviews-Michael was savvy enough to understand the necessity of documenting his life for posterity, so that one day people might say, “That was the real Michael Jackson; that’s what he was like. And this is what it was like to be him.” The truth-unfiltered, unvarnished, unhampered by jounalism’s often poison pens and poison tongues.

.....

..fortsetzung:

Perhaps. Or maybe he just wanted someday to be able to sit back as an old man in his eighties and say, “This was my life. And what a life it was!”

Hmm. Whose Bright Idea Was It To Sell These Pics To “Us Magazine,” I Wonder?

But I do have to wonder if maybe-just maybe-part of his urgency that last Christmas was the desire that Prince, Paris and Blanket would have these cherished memories of the family’s last Christmas together. That is something we’ll never know, and it is easy to read too much into anything when we are looking at in hindsight.


It’s interesting that Fisher seems to contradict herself a bit in this piece. On the one hand, she seems to question Michael’s desire to photograph/record this last celebration so assidiously, while acknowledging that he desired to protect his children’s privacy as much as possible. That part irks me a little. Why spend do much time blabbing about how “weird” it was to be at a celebration where so much was being photographed and recorded, only to then turn around and basically incriminate herself by admitting Michael had specifically asked her not show those photos of his kids to anyone? (It leaves the uncomfortable question hanging: Then Why did she?). Perhaps this was not so much a contradiction as that she was simply trying to reconcile this knowledge with what she personally witnessed that Christmas. In any event, this was for me the most poignant part of the entire passage:

“If the Africans believe that you lose a piece of your soul each time you have your picture taken, then Michael hadn’t had one for a very long time. But he was trying to arrange things so that his kids could keep theirs.”-Carrie Fisher

The idea that one’s soul can be captured and stolen away by having their photo made is a belief that my Native American ancestors share with traditional Africans. In most cases, what may seem the silly and superstitious beliefs of primitive cultures usually has some basis in fact, even if it is merely a psychological fact. I’ve often mused on this very subject when it comes to Michael. All I have to do is glance at my enormous photo files I have collected of him to realize how true it is. I literally have photos of him from the time he was a baby in his crib, to those last, tragic photos on the gurney and the autopsy table-as well as everything in between. His whole life, literally, was documented and recorded. Perhaps that is true of all of us who have grown up in this modern age of photography and video. But very few lives, if any, have ever been as thoroughly documented, at every stage and in such minute detail, as Michael’s.

This is both a blessing and a curse. It is a blessing in the sense that we, as fans and historians, have so much at our disposal, but in a way, it is a kind of curse when we stop to realize the toll that was exacted.

Nevertheless, I am thankful that we have the photos and videos that allow us these glimpses into Michael’s life. It was certainly a life like no other. And these pictures do speak a thousand words. I am happy to know that Michael spent his last Christmas surrounded by the love of his children. I’m sure that they, in return, will cherish the memory of this occasion for the rest of their lives.



Let’s please remember this as we enjoy our own holiday celebrations this year. Life is precious, and quick-and you never know who will be missing next year. Don’t take anyone for granted. Say “I love you” and say it often.

On that note, I love all of you. Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Merry Kwaanza…whatever you celebrate, it doesn’t matter as long as family, good friends, and love are part of it.

And, for gosh’s sake, take lots of pictures!

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