Davy Jones has died.
He was the second person I planned to marry, when I was a kid (the first being, as I’ve noted before, Speed Racer). I fell “in love” with Davy Jones through watching the Monkees on TV, and his appearance on the Brady Bunch, and listening to their songs ad nauseum. And by then I had figured out that marriage to a cartoon character wasn’t all that likely, and Davy Jones seemed like the next best thing. (We’re not going to mention Keith Partridge, aka David Cassidy, who was, at best, a distant third. I think I love you! um, where was I? oh, yeah. Not mentioning David Cassidy.)
Davy Jones was just so damned cute. That irrepressible grin, moppet head–reminded me a bit of Donny Osmond (oh, no, we’re so not going there. Not mentioning the Donny Osmond posters plastered on my walls, because he was a distinctly distant fourth after David Cassidy, whom we’re also not mentioning). Only cuter. He was. Donny Osmond had those teeth. Well, I suppose he still has them. He did the last time I saw him. Davy Jones’s teeth were just the right size.
So farewell, Davy. You made a lot of kids and teenagers happy with your smile and your songs and your stupid little tambourine that you played with such joy and vitality.
DISCLAIMER: When I say that my childhood has officially ended, that does NOT mean that I’m not still a 12-year-old boy. I am, at heart. I still burp and laugh at fart jokes and snort sometimes when I laugh. So don’t despair, those of you who love my inner 12-year-old boy. He’s still here, and is staying put. That’s why I don’t need to put up poems about wearing purple when I grow old, and spitting on the sidewalk. Because I already wear purple, and I think spitting is kinda disgusting. But I promise to laugh–inwardly, if I think a hearty outward laugh would embarrass you–if you make a loud fart. And I’ll continue to score your burps, but just know the highest I’ve ever given was a 9, and it was impressive. In fact, I’ll never give a 10, because that unreachable 10 belongs to Chase, and I fully anticipate that by the time I meet him again, in whatever life lies beyond this one, he will have mastered that 10 and will regale me with it as soon as he sees me. (Love you, Chase, and miss you like crazy!)