Maria Stuart

Maria Stuart
Howell, Michigan, USA
February 17
Maria Stuart is an award-winning journalist and freelance writer. She lives in Michigan with her husband, their teenage son, and Ted, the hyper labradoodle who keeps her from sitting at the computer too long. You can check out her website at or Follow @mariastuart on Twitter.


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FEBRUARY 29, 2012 6:52PM

He made me a Daydream Believer

Rate: 6 Flag

Davy Jones As I ice my sore, 50-something knee (which makes me feel kind of old), news of the death of Davy Jones of the Monkees shoots me back in time to when I was a girl, back to when I first fell in love.

The first object of my affection was Davy Jones, the cutest member of The Monkees and just about every fifth-grade girl’s dream.

What was not to love?

Jones was cute, funny and non-sexually threatening. In the midst of the British Invasion, he had a lovely English accent and a mod haircut. He was nice, kind and wore cool clothes. He sang well, smiled a lot, and his soft, brown eyes made my little-girl heart flutter.

I loved him as really, truly and deeply as any 10-year-old girl could.

“The Monkees” was must-watch viewing in my family’s little brick ranch in East Detroit. The shows were fun and silly, the music pretty good. I owned all the band’s albums and still know all the words to all the songs. (It’s funny how I lose my keys and forget what I need from the market, but I always know the words to every song I’ve ever heard.)

1966 — the year “The Monkees” debuted on television — was full of music and protest and a dramatic change in the way we lived our lives. It was the year my dad took me to anti-war marches, John Lennon met Yoko Ono, Richard Speck murdered eight student nurses in Chicago, ground was broken for the World Trade Center, “Star Trek” debuted on television, and Walt Disney died.

It was a time when my life stretched out farther than my imagination could see, when anything and everything seemed possible, when I spent all my time reading books and writing stories and poems, when my spirit was all shiny and new.

It was the year I struggled to figure out why we were fighting in Vietnam and how I could look like the girls in the Yardley ads that aired during “The Monkees.”

It was also the year I first fell in love.

For that, I will always have a special place in my heart for Davy Jones and the 10-year-old girl I was.

As I sit with an ice pack on my knee, I mourn them both.

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davy jones, the monkees

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With every dying icon we lose a part of our youth and memories, don't we? Very touching piece.
Well done. I loved him, too.
Lovely post, I was a little older than you but my memories are much like yours.
Sweet and articulate, you must have been at ten as well. "It was the year I struggled to figure out why we were fighting in Vietnam and how I could look like the girls in the Yardley (ad?) that aired during “The Monkees.” Me too.
Loved your post. I feel that we began a new identity thing with the Monkee's -- the Stones laid it out heavy and mean, with their aggressive energy and defiance. With Davy Jones and his group, it was a more innocent, warm and loving kind of vibe. Maybe we were trying to hang onto our last shred of innocence, appreciating the simple joys. Sure got complicated after them. Still trying to figure it all out, make sense of really what had happened ...
Beautiful post, Maria. I remember them too, watching from our family room with the orange shag carpet. I remember their TV show, in syndication for a while on my local station's after-school time slot. I loved it. My brother thought it was stupid which made me love it all the more. RIP Davy.
Yep. He was the cute Beatle. A friend and I spent hours listening to new Monkees albums when they'd be released, and just drooled over Davy. Coach Purses Outlet Coach handbags outlet Coach Outlet Online Coach Purses Outlet