At 5:45 my daughter and I were on our way to her piano lesson when she looked down at her phone and said, "Michael Jackson had a heart attack." I asked how she knew and she told me that a friend, who's father works in the White House, texted her.

"His dad found out because he works with Obama," she said.

I assumed that Jackson was in a hospital in Los Angeles; that he'd recover and we'd hear more later. I did think how strange that he had a heart attack on the same day of Farrah Fawcett's death. Much of the day I'd thought about the sad death by rectal cancer of Fawcett.

She was a very poignant figure.

The public loved her in television's Charlie's Angels but she quit after one season to be movie star. But one film after the next was a flop. A sex symbol who wanted to be taken seriously as an actress, she found herself immortalized by a poster image of her toothy grin and her body fetchingly positioned in a red one-piece bathing suit.

Later she proved herself a true actress with roles in The Burning Bed and other portrayals of tragic women. I was moved by her rekindled relationship with Ryan O'Neil, who  stuck by her in the end, helping her through the 3-year illness that would kill her.

After the piano lesson I overheard some men talking on Seventh Avenue: "Your favorite celebrity is dead," he said. "What are you going to do without Michael Jackson?"

Today was the day the 1970's died. In some
weird way, these two iconic figures from the 1970's will be connected for me by the timing of their demise.

Michael Jackson dead? How is that possible? He's exactly the same age as me. In fact, were born one day apart in 1958 (me: 8/28, he: 8/29). During 6th grade my classmates and I listened to the Jackson Five during breaks in Miss Freston's class. This precocious superstar who never had a childhood spent the rest of his life obsessed with children and juvenile diversions.

In 1982 Thriller thrilled. Who can forget the impact of the best selling album of all time; it permeated popular culture for months and months with its constant presence on the radio and MTV, which was just a few years old. The 14-minute video of the title song was an expertly choreographed, filmic thrill.

Beat It. Thriller. Billie Jean. The album contained one great tune after the next: it did not disappoint from start to finish. And it was such a blast to dance to. 

Talent. Tragedy. Intensity. Weirdness. Maybe it makes sense that this man who never wanted to grow up and lived the life of a lost boy in his self-created Neverland complete with ferris wheels and chimpanzees died before he reached the age of 51.

And this woman who wanted to be remembered as more than a bathing beauty died bravely of rectal cancer just weeks after she "suffered in front of the camera, playing out her battle
with disease, and even her decline – and, by doing so, outing her
serious illness," writes internist/blogger Doc Gurley

Both will live on. She through that poster, the TV show, the film roles she was proud of and her brave documentary. And he with his bestselling music from the Jackson Five's ABC to to Thriller, We are the World and beyond: all petrified and ageless like Jackson wanted to be.