After we left Chicago, we realized we were excitingly close to Gary, Indiana - birth place and childhood home of Michael Jackson and his large family. This is probably the saddest place to go when remembering Michael because it's a super poor town, boarded up in a most ghostly manner. Nothing about the home is child-like (MJ seemed to want to be surrounded by things that were reminiscent of childhood, i.e. toys, glitter). And... this is where Joe Jackson disciplined his children. (Need I say more? That's pretty sad no?)
What wasn't sad was the fact that everyone walking up to the home felt the same way as everyone else. Many fans left notes, candy, stuffed animals, posters, and drawings. As I stood watching the scene, people would occasionally walk up to the house, teary-eyed, and put down a present, often a letter, to MJ. There was crying. Praying. Singing. Hugging. Most everyone was full of love.
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