I was talking with my sister-in-law the other day about the qualms of turning 30. I recently had a birthday, and I’m now 28. It’s not that bad, but I liked 27. I felt I was still considered in my middle twenties (somewhat). But now I’m rounding 30, and well, I don’t like it.

Except for one thing—Michael Jackson. With all the coverage on his death, I’ve been very nostalgic. I loved Michael Jackson as a kid. He’s the only artist I remember listening to in grade school. I remember this beat-up old cassette tape of Thriller, which I played in an brown, handheld PlaySkool cassette player, and I played, danced, and rewound the song “Beat It” over and over again.

Other kid memories include watching Captain EO at Disneyland, doing the moonwalk to kill the bad guys on a Michael Jackson video game for Sega Genesis, and sleeping over at my best friend’s house for the world premiere of the Black and White video when I was ten years old.

And then when the History album was released during the middle of high school, it wasMichael all over again, blasting “Man in the Mirror” while driving with my friends (“cause when you close your heart you can’t close your . . .your mind!”—I love that part at the end). It was also in high school when I got my hands on a Jackson 5 Greatest Hits album and heard that little kid sing (wow).

No doubt that he was very eccentric, his face morphed into something unrecognizable, and his name tainted with accusations. This made us become disenchanted with him. Everyone has his or her opinion, but based on the fact that he had a life no one could ever understand, I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt.

So listening to his music all again this last week, watching him move his body the way he does—it gave me a small case of melancholy as I remember being a kid from Michael Jackson’s 80s. It was awesome, and I feel sorry for the kids that are growing up with Britney Spears and Miley Cyrus for their childhood icons.

And even though you could say I was a little too young to appreciate Michael at the height of Thriller, I do feel I got to witness and experience some of his greatness—from that era—firsthand. And for that, I’m grateful to be 28 years old.