When Jackson’s hair caught fire while filming a Pepsi commercial, it was a major event that had to be discussed, parsed out, mocked, and imitated for years. Then there was his conversion from being a black man to something akin to a white person in terms of physiognomy — the look of face, the tint of his skin. And that video — I’m black, I’m white — with all those racially diverse people morphing into each other. And that other video where Jackson is some kind of Pharaoh, and Eddie Murphy shows up.

What I’m trying to say is that Michael Jackson’s life — and his body — was a vessel for the contradictions within the collective, capital-driven racial psychology of the US. Our society’s struggles with inequality and racism were enacted on his body. His whole childhood was turned into a national childhood — this innocent high-pitched, non-threatening version of James Brown that everyone could consume. And he didn’t get to have his own childhood and he was always in search of it in the weirdest and, at times, disturbing of ways. He suffered for us.

The election of Barack Obama, and the nearly magical way his life story resolves national contradictions while acknowledging the histories behind them, is the flip-side to Michael Jackson’s being the king of pop. It’s as if Obama released all the tension that made Jackson the national and international figure that we needed him to be. As if Jackson didn’t have organs — no heart or kidney or liver — just this national-trauma-turned-pop music-genius-energy inside of him. And Obama has taken that magic, converted it from art-producing-pathos to open, straight-forward expression.

We mourn Jackson’s death, and the beauty he created and the suffering he endured, because we were all along casting our votes for it, creating it, feeding off it, surviving because of him.

My green missions for the summer: getting tankless water heaters, rainwater barrels (you might notice that’s been on the list since time immemorial), and getting an energy audit for the home.

I haven’t been able to post to Green Parenting for a long time because I took a new and demanding job as the editor of a magazine called Cite: The Architecture and Design Review of Houston. I also launched a blog called OffCite.org that I think would be of interest to Green Parenting readers. Like Cite magazine, it covers urban planning, transit, preservation, environmentally responsible design, fine and decorative arts, neighborhoods, and community building.

MaGreen just wrote a fantastic post for OffCite on Green Valentine’s Day Gifts. Some highlights: locally-made macaroons (well, local for Houstonians), flowers made from elephant poop, and a list of love poetry books put compiled by graduates of the University of Houston Creative Writing Program.

I have some posts up too. Among them is an article about the devastation of Hurricane Ike on Galveston Island and the disproportionate effect it has had poor people and minorities.

That’s how we do it. Joy and solidarity.

So went back outside, and the crowd still scared her. I found a patch of grass, and Nicole and her family graciously sat with us while Grasshopper could wind down. But when we tried to leave the grassy knoll she started screaming again, and I let Nicole go on. I sat her down and asked her to try to give walking around one more chance, and that we’d driven a long way and I really thought she’d enjoy the festival if she gave it a shot. She sat still a couple minutes, and decided to try again…but she couldn’t last three minutes. She was just terrified, it seemed, of the crowd.

So we left. I was sad not learn more, but Grasshopper was almost immediately calmer, and pretty articulate about her fear of all the people. We stopped by and Indian Grocery, had a quick lunch at an Indian buffet, and came home, where we both passed out.

I’m glad we gave the day a shot, but no more festivals for this family for at least another six months!

See how I’m going to pretend like the last post wasn’t in September.

Ravi and Yolanda dance together, and then go off to find monkeys or boats or whatever else they can hanging on the wall. Sometimes they go to the park.

(oops will return later. have to go…)

We woke up on Saturday morning to this flood in our front yard.

When the winds and rain let up we went out for a walk.

At our friends, we played the requisite board games.

And spent much time camping inside our house by candlelight. We luckily have gas instead of electric cooking, so our meals are fairly gourmet and have involved cooking everything in the freezer, then the fridge. We are really, really sick of fake meat, which I had just bought a lot of since it was on sale.

We have enjoyed a few days without access to internet or electricity. Life is peaceful here on our street. GreenDaddy says its the most relaxed he’s been in a long time.

Last night we took a card table out onto the lawn and ate with our friend Hosam. Neighbors joined in, and eventually GreenDaddy, Grasshopper, and Ben, the neighbors sun, gave an impromptu concert.

It’s good news when you don’t hear from us often, lately: it means I’m not stuck in my novel and GreenDaddy is busy at work at his new job.

Hope all the folks in blogland are okay. I am writing a real post, just isn’t anywhere near being posted.