I looked at my dad and asked: "Isn't he cute?" My dad asked me who the man was. I could not believe Dad didn't know! I'm sure my dad thought I was nuts. Yea, nuts in LOVE at eight years old.
This photo was taken in Des Moines, Iowa around 1987. Davy sang "I Wanna Be Free." This was the closest I was going to get Davy and the rest of the Monkees, to my own backyard.
Davy's pictures from the teenybopper magazines were the first I put up on my wall. And the first my Mom said I had TOO many pictures up and made me take them down. I hated Marcia Brady when Davy showed up at her house after she lied to everybody that she could get Davy to come their prom. She even got to kiss Davy on the cheek. Bitter. I STILL am.
The "cute" Monkee is now part of Heaven's choir. I am sure is Davy play the tambourine better than the rest. The deaths of Michael Jackson, and recently Whitey Houston, touched me. Yet, there's something about Davy.
Davy was/is such a part of my youth. Now he's gone. Davy's passing shines the light of mortality.
No matter what, Davy will always be that "Daydream Believer."
Rest Davy. Rest.