I still have the picture in my mind, even though it’s been probably more than 20 years since I was there: my grandparents’ living room in Uxbridge, Ontario. They had this semi-detached century house, with glassed-in porches at the front and back. In the living room there were cupboards along half of the wall that attached to the neighbours’ house. According to my mom, my grandmother was horrified when she first saw those cupboards, but she finally realized how great it was to have the extra storage. She kept her good china in there, among other things, if I remember correctly.
The tv was in the front corner of the room, at the back, towards the kitchen, was a big armchair where I often sat to watch television. There was this browny-yellow, round, vinyl ottoman in front of that chair. I loved that ottoman, because if you put it up on its side, you could sit on it, and try and balance yourself. I remember watching tv, balancing on the side of the ottoman, and pretending I was in some kind of competition to see who could balance the longest. I was kind of a strange kid.
I have distinct memories of the shows that I would watch, sitting on the ottoman. One of them was The Monkees. I couldn’t get the channel it played on when I was at home, so it was always great to be there, where I could watch it. It was in reruns (I’m not THAT old) and played daily at around 10am. I loved that show. And who could forget Marcia Brady’s crush on Davy on The Brady Bunch.
A couple of hours ago, I saw a Facebook status from another author, saying RIP Davy Jones. I thought at first it might be a joke. Then I wondered about the inevitable internet celebrity death hoaxes. I went over to Twitter, where, sure enough, Davy Jones was trending. Still not convinced I searched the trending topic and immediately came up with a TMZ story. As much as I’m disgusted by TMZ’s tactics in their reporting, they do have a tendency to be accurate about these things. I clicked on the story, which showed that Davy’s rep had confirmed that their client had passed away this morning from a heart attack. He was 66 years old.
Is it wrong that the first thing I thought was, “At least no one’s saying drugs?”
My friend Sam, AKA Confessions of a Pop Culture Addict, interviewed Davy in 2006. He said he was a true gentleman, very friendly, and a good interview. Sam is sad today. So am I.
My grandparents’ house was torn down a few years ago. It had been ruined and abandoned by the people who had bought it from them, and the township decided it couldn’t be salvaged. The round, browny-yellow, vinyl ottoman is long gone, too. Losing Davy Jones feels like another piece of my childhood gone.