Davey Jones Sits In My Soul (It's News to Me, Too)

So, Davey Jones died.
I'm not even a Monkee's fan.  In fact, I prefer to think that I'm a little too young to be a Monkees fan.  However, Davey Jones' death made me sad.  At first it just made me sad because I had to actually explain to my kids that the news wasn't referring to the Davey Jones from Pirates of the Carribbean-  and once they understood that the pirate dude with the octopus beard was still alive and kicking, they lost interest. While they continued on in their quest to take over my entire household with legos, I watched them and sorrowfully shook my head at the knowledge that they would never know the hilarity of linking arms with their friends and doing that crazy side-stepping Monkee walk down a beach.

Hey hey, we're the Monkees!

Really, what kind of childhood can one have without that?

Then, as my day continued, I began to understand the second reason why I was feeling this loss.  It's because it's linked to one of my  favorite childhood magic memory moments.  You have any of those?  It's those memories where nothing significant is really occurring, but for some reason you've always remembered it.  Like, how I felt at the exact moment when I was 7 and I found a book in the library that contained a character with my weird name.  Or holding my dad's hand when I was 5 and leaping over cracks in the sidewalk.  Those kind of memories.  Do you know what I'm talking about?  They aren't life changing-memories, just defining ones.  They stay with you.

For me, I will always associate Davey Jones with my friend Aimee's living room.  I spent the night at her house a lot, especially in the summer.  And when we woke up in the morning, we watched reruns of the Monkees. (Then we would switch to Divorce Court, then Donahue, and then Days of our Lives.  Summertime was very busy for us.)

For some reason I remember sitting on her couch on those mornings in my pajamas.  I usually had a bowl of soggy, yet cherished, Life cereal in my lap. (My parents would only buy Grape Nuts, which means I basically ate a bowl of gravel every morning of my childhood.)  Her front door was usually open, and the sounds and smells of the morning came in through the screen.  Birds, cars going by, lawn mowers running, those kinds of things.

By the way, have you guys ever noticed how, when you were a kid,  the air smelled different in the summertime?  Especially in the mornings?  I find it strange that I don't really notice the way air smells at all anymore. Maybe that's just something you pay more attention to when you're a kid.  At any rate, I can remember exactly the way it felt, sitting there with our feet propped up on the coffee table, eating our cereal, and watching The Monkees.  I even remember the pattern of shadows the sun made on the living room floor.  Isn't that weird that I can remember that?

But I do.

It's such a simple memory, but it's one I'm glad I have.  It's one of those that kind of just sit in the middle of my soul. And some how I know that if that memory didn't exist for me, I'd be a touch of a different person.  So thank you, my friend Aimee.  Thank you, pajamas.  Thank you, bowl of cereal.  Thank you summer mornings.  And thank you, Davey Jones.