Missing Davy Jones

Davy Jones passed away today. For someone like myself coming of age in the 1960's, one cannot help but be affected by his passing. When I got home from work I went to YouTube and spent a while returning to 1966 and singing along with Davy and the rest of the Monkees to such songs as "Daydream Believer", "Last Train to Clarksville", and "Pleasant Valley Sunday". Back then, I completely fell for the brilliant marketing that was The Monkees. Being a very young fan of The Beatles, I embraced the new TV show called "The Monkees" when it debuted at 7:30 on Monday nights in 1966. To this nine year old boy, they were hilarious and the music was really good. Say what you will about the Monkees being created by TV producers, or that they couldn't play their instruments (which they had to learn when they went on tour), the boys were fun to watch, and the music was actually very good. After all, some of their hits were penned by Carole King and Neil Diamond.

As much as I enjoyed Mickey Dolenz, Peter Tork, and Mike Nesmith, the soul of the group truly was Davy Jones, the diminutive young Brit standing five foot three, with a following of millions of screaming teeny bopper girls. He represented everything I wanted to be back then. Nowadays people might call it a "man crush" (boy crush?). I wanted to sing like him, I wanted the girls to chase me like they chased after him, and I wanted to wear the same clothes he wore. When Davy and Mickey started wearing love beads and pendants, I wanted to wear them too. My dad, a staunch conservative Republican and WWII veteran said, "Oh no you don't!!! No son of mine is going to dress like a hippie and wear girls' necklaces!". Ah, such was the Generation Gap of 1968...

Davy's passing closes another chapter in the book of my wonderful childhood. While the music world mourns the recent loss of Whitney Houston, arguably a much greater talent than Davy Jones, it will be Davy that I will truly miss.