I remember the day I heard about Michael Jackson’s death. It was on June 27, 2009, two days after it happened. I was flying home from an intensive week-long course where I hadn’t had access to news of any kind. As I watched the story unfold on an airport T.V. during a layover, what I remember most is not the grief at losing this talented performer and fellow human being well before his time, or anger at his doctor for irresponsibly providing a deadly combination of drugs, but compassion and understanding toward the King of Pop.

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