I was starting to wonder if I was emotionally stunted because I am not grief-stricken about the death of someone famous who I never met, who just happened to be a good musician and by all accounts a great showman. Just like I refused to get caught up in all grief-wallowing when Princess Di died. Yes, it was sad. Yes, she was pretty. Yes, she had her share of problems. Yes, she was a loving mother. And yes, she seemed to genuinely care about people and want to help. But the same applies to literally millions of women around the world who have never had the adavantage of the priviledge she was born into. Dying before her time did not make her a saint.

Likewise, the sudden and shocking death of Michael Jackson is sad, but it does not raise him to the status of pop (sorry, NOT rock’n'roll) deity.

I say “it’s a shame” when someone famous dies too early, too suddenly or too painfully. But I save my own sense of tragedy for when I lose someone who really did touch my life – like when cancer of the oesophagus claimed my Dad within 4 short months of diagnosos. Now THAT was tragic (for me), but even he did not become a saint by virtue of dying. His death left a big hole in my life where he used to be.

Let’s keep a sense of proportion folks – acknowledge the passing of a cultural icon, sure. But leave the weeping and wailing, rending of clothes. As other news today showed us, there is more than enough things to be sad about without going looking for tragedy in the loss of people we have never known.