Amy and Michael Jackson

My imaginary daughter Amy, 6, spent a lot of time in front of the TV at Carolyn's these past few days, as Carolyn was very busy with work and preparing for a family gathering at Fahd's. Naturally, Amy was swept up in the coverage of Michael Jackson's death, and like many, had a few questions, the first being, "How did he become a white lady?"


"Well, darling," I began hesitantly, "he didn't like the way he looked so he had plastic surgery to change his face, but he wasn't a lady." She thought for a moment, and then without hesitation asked, "Can I get a surgery to make me pretty too?"


"But honey, you're already pretty," I said, placing the palm of my hand across her ample cheek, adding, "You don't need to change a thing." She thought for a moment and looked around the room at nothing in particular, then said, "What's for lunch?"


I had already prepared a watermelon and feta salad, because she loves anything sweet and salty, and she loved this dish. "It doesn't need a thing," she echoed, then asked, "Did Michael Jackson take Vicodamns and Midol like mommy does?"

"I don't think so, sweetheart."

"If you and Carolyn got dead, who would take care of me?"

"You'll be all grown up when that happens, precious, and you'll be able to take care of yourself," I lied, knowing that an ironclad arrangement in case of just such an eventuality had already been reached as part of the divorce agreement.

She pondered a moment and said, "This salad is really good, Ricky."


After lunch, Amy drew this picture of Michael Jackson as "a gift for his children" and asked me to mail it to them.

And I did.


Click here for more Amy stories.