The King an Angel and the Sidekick

I could not let the day pass without writing my feelings down about the events of this past week.

I have struggled with how to start this, so I will just begin.

My earliest memories of Ed McMahon was knowing when I heard his voice, it was time to put my book away and go to sleep. On occasion I was allowed a Friday night to watch Johnny, Ed and Doc. I never understood a lot of the jokes but I thought the costumes in the skits were hilarious. What do you expect I was 6! Later I would associate Ed with hitting the big payday! I would pray that my doorbell would ring and it would be Ed McMahon and a balloon bouquet attached to a huge cardboard check, so my Daddy could stop working and stay home with us. Needless to say, Ed never showed up. Lastly, I have vivid memories of Star Search and the many acts that got their break on that show, for instance a group named Gyrls Tyme who later became Destinys Child. I watched that show faithfully each week and Ed was a terrific host. Some of his jokes, not so funny but he was a great guy.

Then there was Farrah Fawcett. When I heard the news of her passing, I wasn't shocked, but it did sting. You see she was my favorite Angel. As a young girl,I tried to wear my hair like hers, I had a Farrah doll and I had a Charlie's Angels t-shirt and lunch box. When I became older, I watched "The Burning Bed". That movie allowed me to see Farrah in a whole new light. To me she did a good job of bringing the cycle of violence into light and how easy it is for some women to get caught in it. Whether you were a direct victim of domestic violence and/or abuse or knew of someone that was, when she set fire to that bed and killed Mickey...a surge of power, self worth and determination would flow, it was amazing. There was always a quietness about Farrah and her smile always seemed to warm you right through the tv screen.

Just as I was learning the details of Farrah's passing, I received a phone call informing me that Michael Jackson had been rushed to the hospital and had passed away. I didn't believe it. Even though it was my mom that called. I thought it was a joke. I continued to prepare for church and as my family and I walked out of the door we all had a strange feeling that it was true. As my husband started the truck, the radio came on and Michael's voice rang loud and clear as, "You Wanna Be Startin' Somethin'" filled our ears. Just about every radio station we turned on was either talking about him or playing his music. My mom called again and let me know that he had indeed passed, however the only media outlet that would confirm his death was TMZ. Quite honestly I have never known them to be wrong and I didn't think they missed this one. By the time we got to church we knew he was gone
however most people were waiting for CNN. Moments later it hit the airwaves.

Michael Joseph Jackson , The King of Pop has died at age 50 of cardiac arrest.

I took a deep breath and we had church. I can honestly say that I didn't think about his passing during service. It was a good service! I got all I could get an then some from the speaker...I had time to process the days events later.

I'm still processing.

I've tried to find the lessons in all of these deaths. I believe that there are lessons in all things and I really wanted to understand. So here are a few things I figured out so far.

Lesson #1: It takes a big person to step back and let the little guy shine.

Ed McMahon was a talent in his own right. He had personality, charm and charisma, yet he played sidekick to Johnny Carson for years. He allowed Johnny to shine. As a host for Star Search again he set the stage for others to shine. And as the Publisher's Clearinghouse spokesman, yep you guessed it he opened plenty of door to ordinary peoples homes and game them their moment to shine. That didn't go unnoticed, because when he needed help, people came in and gave back to "the Sidekick".

Lesson #2: Beauty that comes from within will outlast any outer appearance.

Farrah Fawcett was beautiful, both inside and out. She stole the hearts of thousands of young boys all across the country. Her light laugh coupled with her stunning smile gave a peek into who she really was. Her eyes told a story that words could not express. You didn't need to personally know Farrah to understand that she was a beautiful human being. Such things can never be explained anyway, it is something that shines from within. She was truly "an Angel".

Lesson#3: Never let go of your inner child.

Michael Jackson began working as a young child. Before he could build a block tower that was tall enough to come crashing down, he was holding a microphone in his hand and entertaining crowds. No time for crayons, play dough, finger paints, sandboxes, or cartoons. He was an entertainer and his job was to give his audience a good show. Couple that with being #7 of 8 kids, with limited funds and it isn't very pretty. He lived his life chasing his childhood, searching for ways to relive it to recreate it. Only to find himself at odds with so many that could never understand his struggle. He fought and he fought hard, he found ways to reconcile the adult he had grown to be and the child he never was. He climbed the proverbial mountain and became "the King".

My generation has lost three of our favorite icons, and I have no doubt that we will lose more in the years to come. I hope that the next generation has icons that are capable of leaving an impression that is not just in the moment but one that touches your heart and challenges the way you see yourself and others.

I Love My Voice

As a child I was often told to be quiet. I had this uncanny ability to project my voice over any size group of kids. No matter how loud they were, I could always be louder. I can remember one hot summer day in Houston, I was playing with a group of kids in our apartment complex. The playground just happened to be in front of our apartment, so my mom always made sure she kept an eye out for all the kids who happened to be playing there. I cannot recall what game we were playing but I do remember clearly that I was "in charge". I found myself in that position often and it earned me the nickname, "Sarge" by the manager of the complex. We were having a good time and I did my best to keep every one of my friends on track, so that the game went smoothly. For quite some time I was explaining the rules to some of the kids that got away from the object of the game. Then I heard my mothers
voice yelling:

"Camille, COME HERE!"

Well, it was never good when she said that. That meant get in the house double time, without delay! So quickly, I ran into the house, and in between pants I answered, "Yes ma'am".

Now my brother and I had this theory that if we came to see what our mother wanted, and left the door open she would talk fast and we could go back out to play.

It never worked.

So, I am standing there, waiting for what seems to be an eternity. My mother looked at me and said, "Camille, you are too loud. I can hear you over all the other kids on the playground. Quiet down, it is not necessary to be that loud. Boys don't like loud girls."

First let me say, my mother meant well. It was her intention to raise a lady. This went along with her lectures about wearing a dress, perfume and not having chipped nail polish. I am truly grateful that my mother loved me enough to do all she knew to point me in the direction of becoming a lady. Thank you Mommie.

At that time, however, I didn't see that. I walked back outside with my head hung low and did everything I could to be as quiet as possible. It was the day, I believe, that I began to silence my own voice. As I got older, I stopped speaking up and eventually I began to speak in such a low tone that people could not understand me. Then I met this DJ.

I was 17 years old and a senior in high school. I was in a stage of trying to "find myself". We had a pep rally and one of the local radio stations hosted the event. Afterwards, we met the DJ's and they signed autographs. One of my friends grabbed me by the arm and forced a now very shy Camille to ask for an autograph. I bent my head down slightly and handed Paco my bumper sticker. He asked me who he should make it out to and I answered, "Camille". He stopped, looked at me and said, "Wow!" "You've got a fantastic voice girl!" I giggled, said thanks and took my autograph. Later I read what he wrote, "to Camille, one of the sexiest voices I've heard in a long time." That absolutely floored me! (it floored my Dad too)

I needed that. I still do. That moment did not totally change my view of my voice. It still took years before I appreciated my deep, contralto voice. But, I remember that moment often and it always brings a smile to my face.

My brother is younger than I am and sometimes people think he is older, because, he did the talking for us whenever we were in a room full of people. I spent a lot of my formative years hiding in the shadow of others for fear that I would be too loud and be labeled a big mouth, loud mouth girl. Finally, my brother looked at me and declared,

"You have a voice that deserves to be heard in this world."

That stayed with me. It still does. Each day now I remind myself that my voice is important and that God made me with a booming voice for a reason. It is part of my purpose, it is essential to my destiny. I no longer view my voice as a negative attribute, but rather as a precious gift that God saw fit to give me because I would know what to do with it.

I no longer hide in shadows of others, nor do I speak so low that no one can hear me and my husband loves the sound of my voice.

God has charged me to speak loudly and declare His wondrous works, to cry aloud like Jeremiah and spare not!

I have a voice that deserves to be heard in this world, and I love my voice!