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Thriller

You all may have missed this announcement a couple of weeks ago. I am going to save the day by filling you in.

Michael Jackson's "Thriller" album was re-released in February as a 25th anniversary edition. Holy cow. I am so glad. I thought I might not live long enough to see it.

I hope you bought yours. Actually, if you didn't the price is plummeting on Amazon.com. You might want to go snag one just in case it is a sleeper and becomes one of the world's great collectibles by the time you need college money for your offspring. The album started out at $19.99 and is now down to $12.99.

I read the online reviews of this sort-of musical phenomenon. They weren't great, although all the contributors lauded the original edition. Some people even called the original "Thriller" the greatest album of all time. Well, shoot, I don't know . . . I was pretty fond of Buddy Holly and the Crickets, Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels, and four guys from Liverpool. "Greatest of all time" is pretty all-encompassing. I don't think I'm convinced of that.

However, I have to say the songs from that album take me way back to lessons and recitals at Mary Ann's School of Dance in Marion. Not MY younger years, of course, but those of The Youngest Daughter, her classmates, and friends. They were the performers — 25 years ago according to Amazon.com. Sure, I was younger then too, although still an old mom in the eyes of those kids.

But I gotta tell you, I was pretty cool for an old lady. Looking back I still think I was cool. If someone popped the original "Thriller" album onto a turn-table I bet I could lip-sync all the words. Not that anyone cares . . . even me.

I am at the point where I need to make a point with this opinion column comment. Hmmm . . .

I guess I am surprised that it has been 25 years since the original album release. I am surprised that I am still around and still know the words. Most surprising of all is that I am no longer cool — haven't been for years — but I don't really give a rip. Michael Jackson should be so lucky.

— SUSAN MARSHALL

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