I think every female that grew up in the sixties sighed when they heard the news that Davy Jones had died Wednesday. Part of the pop group The Monkeys, he seemed to be the favorite of all the females.
I looked forward the The Monkeys TV show as a kid. I, too, was one of those little girls in love with Davy. It was my first crush ever. I imagined all kinds of things that only little girls that age can imagine about a crush.
My dear Aunt Carolyn and I would write letters back and forth to each other. She played along with my crush and would ask me things like how he was doing, did we set a wedding date yet, did he like my new dress. When I would visit, she would ask why he didn’t come – was he on tour? She was wonderful that way.
Until I heard the news, I hadn’t thought much about Davy or the rest of the group. I know some of them still recorded, but they no longer toured together because of a dispute. That’s a bit sad, because some of them wanted to. I wonder if I would have gone to see them.
Good bye Davy, my first heart-throb. May you rest in peace and fill heaven with your songs.