It is strange how memory and news of an unexpected death can spark a rush of thoughtful reflections. Is this a meme?

Davy Jones, singer in the 60’s band The Monkees, died yesterday of a heart attack at age 66.

Here is my contribution to the meme…. I think that it was the year I was in grade 4 that The Monkees first hit prime time television. This was in pre-cable days and if your house had a tall antenna attached you could pick up the American channels. If you had the American channels you watched shows like The Monkees. My house had a television that had the antenna on top of the set. Rabbit ears they were called . We only watched the local shows. That meant Canadian shows, like Don Messer, Elwood Glover and Juliette after the hockey game. They were dull shows meant for adults.

There was a girl in my class. I think her name was Diane and she just loved this new show called “The Monkees”. She was always talking the day after a new episode about the show. I must have been green with envy. I don’t recall how I managed to see my first episode. Perhaps it was visiting friends or family, maybe we even got a tall antenna. I do remember going to school the next day feeling that I had to share the news with Diane. Our class was in a portable. I can remember telling her when we were at our desks (probably with way too much enthusiasm) that I had watched The Monkees the night before. She did not care, shrugged me off and I remember being stunned.

I think she taught me there and then that mass culture was not for me. I was destined to be a floundering hipster. If you listened to obscure music, watched oddball TV and weird movies, you never had to fall victim to the shrug of falling behind.

I loved the show despite her reaction. I can remember going out with my mother to a restaurant and encountering a jukebox. I made the choice of “Pleasant Valley Sunday” by The Monkees. She helped me understand the lyrics, especially the “status symbol land” part.

Now my second meme tale turns darker. If I was ten in my first memory, it was probably four or five years later that The Monkees make another contribution to my life. My father encountered medical difficulties, mental health troubles. He had manic episodes and had long stays in psychiatric hospitals. In one of his long visits he encountered an album by The Monkees. He was convinced that the meaning to life and the universe was contained in the lyrics to that album. He scribbled nonsensical notes in pen on the album cover. I can’t tell you the name of the album, but I can picture it. 

* I looked it up, it was Headquarters.

I can also recall the sinking feeling that I used to encounter when I was faced with a father who was illogical and insane. Now we would describe his condition in health terms, but to my mind “insane” was the term of the time. The implication of that word, to my teenaged mind, was that although he was there, in profound ways he was lost forever. Being of a sensitive nature, I also feared that I was somehow destined to become lost one day too.

I am afraid that somewhere at home, in a gathering of old vinyl, that Monkees album is still in my possession. It haunts me still.

So it was a shock to think of a member of The Monkees dying unexpectedly. I read the articles and web contributions of first crushes and sunny memories. I do not begrudge anyone a baby boomer moment or the need to pay tribute to someone who seemed to be a pleasant person. I enjoyed their show and their music too. If I were to meet one of them, I would smile and tell them long ago I was a fan. Perhaps it is the story of my life that I supplied even The Monkees with a dark side.