Where do I begin?
I guess this love affair with Davy Jones began when I was 10 years old. I remember watching Monkees episodes on television. I can't remember what day of the week they were on. But I seem to remember watching them in the afternoon during the summer. I'm sure they were probably on Saturday mornings too. It was that year that I was introduced to my now best friend, Heather. Her mother was an avid Monkees fan. She had all of their albums (and they were actually albums). We used to sit in her bedroom and listen to the Monkees music all day, all night...I was falling in love.
As time wore on, we learned of their reunion tour in 1986, however it was too late to go and see them when they came to our home town. We missed that show. We hoped that they would come somewhere close again but it didn't happen during that tour. Instead, we took to reading all of the teen magazines we could where The Monkees were featured. We hung up posters in our bedrooms and cut out smaller pictures from the magazines to create "collages" for our walls. I wish I had taken a picture of what my room looked like back then. It was pretty amazing. I remember Heather and I listening to Davy sing and just closing our eyes, completely mesmerized by his voice. It wasn't long before we started writing. We each had notebooks full of "articles" about The Monkees that we wrote. We recorded all of their statistical data and memorized it by heart. I think I ended up having two or three binders full of "Monkee Notes" by the time I finished writing them. We also began writing stories about The Monkees, in which we were both featured. In my stories, I always ended up falling in love with Davy. Usually, Heather fell in love with Peter. Ha-ha...I made that up to her several years later in a story that I wrote for her called "Heather's Story". But, I digress...
As the phenomena died down a little bit and we grew into teenagers, their music became something we listened to occasionally, looking at each other with secret smiles. This was "our" thing. This was something that we shared. We had tried to let others in. But our brothers were not very willing participants in our Monkees Fan Club and they certainly didn't want to act in the play we wrote about The Monkees when we were eleven. The Monkees was a link that we shared. I was always quick to let others know that I was a Monkees fan. Even though I was growing up and beginning to listen to other things. I became a born again Christian when I was 15 and I began listening mostly to Christian music. Even so, anyone who knew me (and who knew Heather) knew that the Monkees was our first love, musically.
In the late 90's, we learned of a 30 year reunion tour. Heather and I were ecstatic. We got tickets to see The Monkees in Binghamton. I was so excited, I hardly slept the night before. Here I was, 20 years old, and I was FINALLY going to see them in person for the first time. Our tickets were in the second row. As the show started and the guys came out to their theme song (Hey Hey We're The Monkees), I screamed louder than I have ever screamed before. And I almost fainted. I had to sit down and put my head between my legs. No joke. When I recovered, I stood back up and Heather and I refused to sit down with the rest of the audience to watch the show. As they sang "Last Train To Clarksville", Micky came over to where we were standing, dancing, and motioned for us to sit down so the people behind us could see. ONLY because it was Micky asking, we sat down. That night, I came home and wrote one more "Monkee Note". It was the last one I have ever written.
I saw The Monkees a few times after that time. I saw them in Boston in 1997, and again in Massachusetts a year later. Then Davy started going out on the road to do shows by himself. Micky was doing his own thing and Peter had his band Shoe Suede Blues. Heather and I somehow roped her mom into taking us to Long Island to see Davy. ("You mean that show is in Long Island?? Wow! I wish we had known that BEFORE we bought the tickets!") A few years later, Heather and I went to Northumberland, PA to see Davy again. Only this show was different.
We got there early. It was a buffet dinner with a show afterwards. Our seats were very close to the stage. As we entered the building, there was a sign on the door that read that Davy would be signing autographs after the show. I was beside myself. It had been my dream to one day get to meet Davy. This was my chance! Thankfully, I had brought along a copy of his autobiography. I had gotten it for my 13th birthday. I was so excited. I had never wanted a show to be over so bad! Davy put on an amazing performance of course. And after the show, Heather and I got in line to meet him and get his autograph and a picture with him.
When it was my turn, I clutched my book to my chest, smiled at him and asked him not to laugh at the condition my book was in. I showed it to him and of course, he laughed at how worn out it was. I defended myself with, "Well, I've read it a few times!" He said, "Yes I can see that!" I was in heaven as he posed for a picture with Heather and I and then we left. When we got outside, I was shaking so badly that Heather had to help me put my coat on. And I burst into tears. I never understood why fans cried when the object of their adoration was close to them...now I did. It was a long time before I regained control of myself. It was a magical night indeed.
I saw Davy again in Massachusetts. It was during that show that I managed to get myself in his path while he was moving through the audience, singing "Girl". I threw my arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. It was really awesome.
And so, because of all of this history, when I found out a few days ago of his death, I was indeed grieving. I still am to some extent. I have such fond memories and I have had so many encounters with Davy. It doesn't seem right that he's gone now. He was so young. I used to ask Heather every summer if this was the year we could go to find Davy's house in Beavertown, PA. She always said no and called me a stalker. I was hoping that this year she might say yes. When I was 13, I got a tambourine for Christmas. I was hoping to get Davy to sign that tambourine for me some day.
I'm thankful that I have these memories. I'm thankful that I was able to meet Davy the few times that I did. He was always very gracious. Talking to him was like talking to an old friend. I can only pray that Davy knew Jesus as his Savior. I pray with all of my heart that he did.
I have heard from so many people since Davy passed away, people that I haven't spoken to in years have said to me, "When I heard that Davy died, I thought of you immediately." That says something, I think. My best friend from college used to say the same thing to me every time we would make a new friend: "Did you tell them you're a Monkee?" Haha...it was branded on me, I guess. And it still is, after all these years.
My name is Nicole...and I'm Davy Jones' #1 Fan.
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