He was Peter Pan — the boy who stayed a boy. He even lived in Neverland.

And like lazy parents, we indulged him. We applauded his menagerie of exotic animals and his collection of carnival rides.

We watched as he turned himself into something resembling an antique doll.

He had a high voice and gentle ways.

We didn't want him to grow up.

Maybe because we didn't want to grow up.

Yet there was always something else about him, something dark and dangerous and sad. He was like those bedeviled tots in Stephen King's novels, children filled with shadows and destructive powers. That shady side showed up in his stage shows, where he was constantly thrusting and grabbing and acting the menace.

The friction between his two sides made him fascinating. We watched him change the face of popular music. Whenever he reinvented not only himself, he reinvented pop culture.

Yet there was always that sadness.

And when the stories finally spilled out about his predatory ways, we felt ourselves pulled back through the looking glass, back from Oz.

We knew what we'd always known.

At some point, everybody must grow up.

Yet today, as the music world mourns his passing, this thought occurs:

Instead of a child with a dangerous adult inside, better to be an adult housing a hidden child.

Better to be like the courageous soldier who returns from war and tears up like a kid at the sight of his family.

Better to be like the authors who gave us "Huckleberry Finn," "Great Expectations," "The Velveteen Rabbit" and "Where the Wild Things Are."

Better to be like the religious leaders who stand firm and strong, yet are also submissive, obedient, dependent and tender-hearted.

Rather than an olive with a gritty pit inside, better to be sugar candy with a soft center.

The angels and demons will now battle for Michael Jackson's legacy. Whenever we hear him sing "I'll Be There," we'll also see the shadows of his later life.

Whenever we think of his over-sexed self-indulgence, those wonderful rhythms and unforgettable dance moves will also come to mind.

Like so many men of his generation, he longed to remain a boy in a man's world. He wanted the joy of innocence without accountability.

If only he'd seen that you don't have to be a boy who fights off approaching adulthood.

You can be an adult who harbors an inner child.

It was Napoleon, I believe, who said the person who wrote "boys will be boys" forgot to add "boys will be men."

From my point of view, however, Napoleon himself forgot to add, "the best men know when to be a man and when to be a child."

Being an "outer child" when an adult is a recipe for despair.

Harboring an inner child as an adult may well lead to salvation.

E-MAIL: jerjohn@desnews.com