Oh, for heaven’s sake. Has it really been 45 years?
I just heard that tomorrow The Monkees will launch a reunion tour of the United Kingdom and the United States. Bickering among members of the foursome has abounded, over the years and recently, so only three-quarters of the quartet will be performing—sans Mike Nesmith (or as we used to know him, the one in the knit cap).
Seeing my childhood heart-throb and his buddies prompted a whirlwind of free association in my head this morning.
I won’t even try to connect the dots, but I will share my top memories and what The Monkees meant to me.
In 1967, a year after The Monkees made the scene, I was in second grade and living outside Cleveland. A good bit younger than their target base, I was a huge fan.
I remember watching their comedy TV show on our 13-inch black and white television every week, I think it was on Saturdays.
One bittersweet memory: Christmas 1967, it was a Monkees album that confirmed for me a certain truth about the existence of one S. Claus. I had come across an album hidden in our house days before it appeared under the tree. Today, whenever I hear “I’m a Believer,” I have flashbacks.
The following year, I joined The Monkees Fan Club and wrote a love letter to Davy, hoping to get one in return. I’m still waiting.
Six years after that, a girl moved into our Virginia neighborhood from California. We were hanging out in her basement one day and she told me she had Davy Jones’ ring. She said she had been in the front row at a concert and, as Davy bounced energetically about the stage, the ring slipped off his finger and she caught it. She said she tried several times to return it but never got a response.
I was skeptical. She pulled out her copy of The Monkees album and showed me the ring on the cover. She also showed me other pictures in which the ring was visible in detail, revealing some sort of engraving. Then she reached into her jewelry box and pulled out the ring. I swear it was a perfect match. I’ve since lost touch with my friend Chris; maybe I’ll search for the ring on eBay.
Anyway, for better or for worse, they’ll be back on stage. In a TV news interview this morning, Davy said he was looking forward to getting back out there—because he just spent $14,000 on his teeth.
Word Nymph 
I loved them as well and yes, they were on every Saturday afternoon. I remember making a point to watch them. Those were the days.
Wasn’t it Mike Nesmith’s mother that invented White Out? He does not need the money enough to tour. As for flashbacks, I go right back to my 5th grade coat closet every time I hear I’m A Believer. Trust me, that sounds way juicier than the reality 🙂
Perhaps what was happening in the coat closet was what I was doing hidden behind the drapery? This was the days of one stereo per household and the stereo cabinet was a substantial piece of furniture in the family room, front and center of the home. I used to tuck myself in the drapery facing the backyard and sing my heart out to Davey Jones.