I HAD been mulling over the premature deaths of two icons – TV’s angel and pop’s King.

I could actually say that both Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson were markers in my formative years.One “taught” me how to be competent riding on a skateboard and the other to moonwalk.

I was only 12 when Charlie's Angels debut on TV at 9 every Wednesday night.

It was a series about three women private investigators, roles traditionally reserved for men then.

That was perhaps why it attracted a pre-teen who needed to know women are as good as men when it came to crime-fighting on TV, if not better.

I even went to school with her face, and those of the other Angels, on my lunchbox.

I particularly remembered one episode where Farrah, as Jill Munroe, was on a skateboard being chased by a bad guy in an Ice Cream truck though the park.

SOURCE: THE EXAMINER

The year before, I had been bugging my parents to get me a skateboard, having watched teen actor Leif Garrett (who happened to be sporting the same kind of hairdo as Farrah Fawcett then), on one.

They had refused, convinced that it was dangerous and a sport only for teen boys.

Farrah managed to change that a year later.

That evening at an impressionalbe age, I was captivated.

Actually, they continued to refuse my begging and pleading for one.

It was after a whole lot of cajoling and emotional blackmailing that my late grandmother came through.

I finally got my bright green skateboard a month after the episode went on air.

The tricky part was learning how to ride it well without breaking every bone in my body.

Having no one to physically show me the ropes, the only way was to watch Farrah on hers over and over and over.

I was able to, since I had recorded the episode at a repeat showing on RTM1, a Malaysian channel.

I ran the tape thin and after several scrapes on the elbows and knees, I was able to competently roll my way through Botanic Gardens sans the bad guy in an Ice Cream truck.

It was not until six years later that I “encountered” my other mentor – the King of Pop himself.

I still remember the image clearly as if it was just yesterday.

Michael Jackson was performing Billie Jean on stage in his black Fedora, glittery black jacket over a white tee, black pants that barely reached his ankles, showing off his white socks and black loafers.

SOURCE: MJJ PRODUCTIONS

Classmates in junior college were trying their darnest to imitate the moves.

Once again I decided to record MJ’s moves off the small screen, play the tape thin to ace the moves.

I drove my family nuts with the constant playing of Billie Jean and after about the 27th time I managed to moonwalk in my bedroom slippers.

I advanced ot moonwalking in a pair of moccasins before trying out in my trackshoes.

And in 1996, I watched Michael Jackson live on stage doing his famous moonwalk.

It all seems like some fragmented dream memories now that came flowing back with news of their deaths.

In the end, they remain as relics of my generation. Rest in peace, Farrah and Michael and thanks.