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On Davy Jones passing

 I have worried about the pending but inevitable deaths of a few of my Rockstar idols, and sadly today one of them has passed. As a teenager (13-14) I got really into the Beatles and the Monkees. I fell in love with two men, and one of them was Davy Jones. In my teens I felt the need to change my name and make my own identity (that is a whole different story)  and I took the last names of "the two guys I would take to the prom." Still not quite sure why it boiled down to that for me, but it did. Davy Jones and Ringo Starr were my guys. And if you gave me a time machine those would be the men I would try to find. 

 Obviously I was Monkees obsessed, and favored Davy because he was adorable and English. What can I say, I'm a sucker for English guys. Some have called me an Anglophile. I had a huge crush on Davy and fantasized about finding a younger version. But in reality I listened to their music and drew dragons. That's what I did in High School. On March 5th of 2001, a shooting happened at my school. I was a Sophomore and was hanging out with two friends between class. Both of my friends were shot and 2 of my peers were killed. It happened out of nowhere. I feel like that was the day I was forced to grow up. After that day everything changed. And the one environment that I was in that had felt safe was clearly no longer safe. I guess the feeling of "It can happen to you" makes you grow up pretty fast. 


 My Monkees fandom was in full swing when this awful thing happened. And this was one of those times where music helped me through a hard time. I firmly believe that there is something about music that heals the soul. Just months after the school shooting it was as if my prayers had been answered. I had won two free Monkees tickets. It just so happened I had a Monkee loving best friend at the time who could come with me. Just after that happened, we were also able to buy some Monkees tickets in LA at the Sun Theatre. Well we were the two happiest best friends you ever saw. We had a tough year, and now we had not one but two pairs of Monkees concert tickets. 


 I saved up my money and bought a shirt and a few other tour items. The moment the Monkees came out on stage was the first time I had ever seen a celebrity in my life. And the timing couldn't have been better. Davy, Micky and Peter Monkee-walked out on stage and did a great set of all the songs you'd want to hear. And one point the other two pulled away to provide back up as Davy sang one of his solo songs. Well at this point I was standing up dancing in our primo front row seats. My best friends and I were dancing in front of the stage.


 As soon as the piano kicked in Davy reached for my hand. I'm pretty sure that was the closest thing I have ever had to a heart attack. My knees gave out but I was able to hold myself up. Butterflies in my stomach would be an under statement. Davy Jones was singing "Girl" to me, and HOLDING MY HAND.  Man I wish there was a picture, but this was before camera phones...if that makes any sense. I was a teenage girl totally swept away by a 50 something year old man. He was charming and he smelled good. I didn't care that he was short and over 50, he was charismatic. I literally didn't wash my hand for 3 days, and quickly realized that never actually washing this hand again was a bad idea. But I certainly savored in my touched hand. I had a sleep over with my friend that night, and we laid in out beds starry-eyed from the evening. 

 I became a concert junkie, ultimately longing after recreating that moment: getting up close and personal with one of my rock star crushes. Thankfully I was able to make that happen many more times again with other singers, but Davy was the first. 

Comments

madmig said…
When there's tragedy it's always comforting to experience a little bit of magic.
If that says anything, it gives a little light in a dimly-lit world.
Thanks for the insight. Although short, it was inspiring.
Thanks Mad Mig! Well I like to share but not blah blah rant for too long. I like to leave people with my anecdotes.

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