Peter Tork’s birthday is tomorrow. He’s the first of The Monkees to turn 70. Yes, that’s right, he’s hitting the big 7-0, and to celebrate, I think I’ll wear a black armband.
It’s not like they were my all-time favorite group or anything. Far from it. It’s just that they were popular during the time I was entering my early teen years, and they performed in color on that new-fangled device in the living room: TV!
The first song I learned on the piano was not “Hot Cross Buns” or “Little Bunny Foo-Foo”—it was “I’m a Believer,” pounded out with about as much feeling as yesterday’s funeral dirge. (It was shortly thereafter I realized that playing musical instruments was not my forté.) (It’s okay, really, I have other fortés.)
Nevertheless, the fact that two of The Monkees turn 70 this year is more than a little disconcerting. Seventy! Heck, Mick Jagger won’t be 70 until 2013 (although he’s looked 70 for several decades now). But not my Monkees! Impossible!
It’s probably a good thing that Elvis will be forever 42; I can’t imagine his hair turning gray. Can’t imagine my hair turning gray either… But time keeps marching on, and may The Last Train to Clarksville arrive on another Pleasant Valley Sunday.
