There is one party I managed to be late to two times in my life. And now I messed around too long, and can't ever actually go to it in person.
The summer between my freshman and sophomore years in college, MTV replayed the Monkees TV series. It came on in the early afternoon in the central time zone, and I spent that summer watching it religiously in my hometown in Oklahoma. I stayed out until late-late at night with my friends every night, slept until noon (at least), and was mostly functional by the time the show came on. I was too young to have seen it when it first ran, but it was just the right thing for the silly 18 year old I was that summer. That fall, I went back to college with tapes full of Monkees songs, and I remember clearly being mocked about my musical taste by the guy I had a crush on, who lived in the fraternity house where I was a little sister. His disdain didn't slow me down a bit. I loved that music, and most of all, I thought Mike Nesmith was just spiffy.
I sort of knew that Mike Nesmith had a career after the series ended, but only in the vaguest sense. I think I had heard he was friends with Frank Zappa, and maybe he had worked with Rob Zombie, and I did next to nothing to follow up and find out if any of that was true. Then, maybe right before the pandemic hit, an old friend of mine from Boulder posted a link on Facebook to a song he had put out in 1979 called Cruisin'. I'd never heard of it before, but once I started watching the video, I knew this would have appealed to me had I heard it back then (or any time since). I immediately started digging through Spotify for other recordings of his. I kicked myself for never seeking out his music. I absolutely adore it now.
I knew that he and Mickey Dolenz, the only other still-living Monkee, had been touring, and I told myself I ought to see them before it was too late. Well, as of today, it's too late. Nez died today of heart failure. I have regrets. To paraphrase him, I'd known him for a long time, but I'd just begun to care.
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