Yesterday, my best friend texted me with this heartbreaking message: My daydream believer will be singing in heaven now. Poor Davy Jones. I was doing fine until I was turning my car into home and I heard beloved radio DJ Cousin Brucie, who'd been talking to Davy's fans on Sirius, play "It's Nice To Be With You." That was when I broke down and cried.
They just don't make boy bands like they used to anymore. And they don't make teen idols like they used to, either. Someone on Cousin Brucie's show described Davy Jones as having that "boy-next-door" quality--and she's absolutely right. Even though my favorite Monkee was Mike Nesmith (the tall Texan with the wool hat), you had to love the funny, talented young guy with the impossibly gorgeous brown eyes and the English accent, who proved that good things really DID come in small packages. If you're too young to remember the Monkees, then make sure to catch them on YouTube or whenever the reruns of their show is on again.
My heart goes out to the family, friends and fans of this beautiful British gentleman who was to me, like to a lot of little girls in the 1960s, a sweet and gentle part of that era and my childhood. Thank you for memories, Davy!
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