This past weekend Leslie and I made a quick jaunt to Des Moines, Iowa. From my previous trips to Iowa this is where I would normally insert some humor about corn and maybe corn sweating, but apparently this is the first time I have ever been in the state after harvest and I didn’t recognize the place: there was no corn, lots of empty fields and pretty dirt, but that was it. I am not sure Iowa looks like Heaven after the corn.
Another really interesting tidbit that was pure happenstance. Some know I am somewhat of a sci-fi nerd.
As we were driving home I saw a pickup truck towing a trailer. On that trailer was a black 1967 Chevy Impala, which is the same car the drive on the TV show “Supernatural.” I was about to comment on it to Leslie when I noticed the license plate on the Impala. It was Ohio, CNK80Q3, which is the exact license plate on the car in the show.
Either there were some spooky goings on in southern Iowa or someone has a prop vehicle headed to or from a fan show. Either way, it made for some interesting conversation to help pass the time.
The reason for our trip was a concert by Mickey Dolenz, the last-surviving member of the group the Monkees. Leslie and I have seen two previous shows in Kansas City, but this tour was labeled as the 60th Anniversary Tour and was mostly limited to Monkees music. Unfortunately, Kansas City was not a tour stop so to see him our choice was Des Moines or St. Louis. A northernly drive on I-35 is much easier than the eastward trek on I-70, so we chose Iowa.
Leslie also made this show a little extra special by buying me a “meet-and-greet” ticket, so I was one of about two dozen folk who got to go backstage prior to the show and meet Mickey.
I knew I was only going to have about 60 or 90 seconds and I wanted to make it count, but it is hard to think of what I really wanted to say: how do you sum up 60 years of fandom in a few words?
When I was finally face to face, or at least side-by-side with Dolenz, I started with the message I really wanted to share and this is it verbatim: “I want to say something to you that is what I also said to Paul Revere (the music one) when I met him a few years ago: Thank you, the Monkees and the Raiders are what taught me to love music.”
I then shared my fourth-grade school picture and he noticed I was wearing a double-breasted shirt, known by all back then as “a Monkees shirt.” I also showed him a picture I took of him performing in the early 70s.
It was when he was touring with another of the Monkees, Davey Jones, and some other musicians and they played at Worlds of Fun. Since I was looking at the picture I couldn’t see his face, but the lady who was taking pictures with my phone shot a couple candids and he had a smile on his face.
I knew I was smiling, but to realize I got a grin from him made it even better. With that, it was an autograph and picture and I was gone.
Of course, there was the show and it was amazing again to hear about 2,500 people ranging from eight to their 80s singing along with virtually every tune.
Since Sunday night, I’ve had two tunes stuck in my head. Not just meaningless tunes I seem to keep hearing, but two tunes that very much summarize how I feel after the show and meeting Dolenz.
Ironically, the first song has nothing to do with the Monkees: it is actually a song by Alabama, “Old Flame.” There is a chorus: “Now that old flame might not be burning stronger, but it’s been burning longer than any spark I might have started in your eyes.”
The Alabama song is about a man noticing his girlfriend’s old affection for another. That’s not what has me hearing the song. A slight variation of the lyrics expresses my feelings: while many bands have sparked me with their songs and shows, my old flame will always be the Monkees.
The second song is a ballad from the Monkees’ “Headquarters” album. While most of the band’s songs were light and upbeat, this one wasn’t. It is a haunting tune and I have always enjoyed the melody, but now, 60 years later I can more appreciate the message being delivered. The song is “Shades of Gray.”
“When the world and I were young: Just yesterday.
“Life was such a simple game: A child could play.
“It was easy then to tell right from wrong: Easy then to tell weak from strong: When a man should stand and fight or just go along.
“But today there is no day or night: Today there is no dark or light: Today there is no black or white: Only shades of gray.
“I remember when the answers seemed so clear: We had never lived with doubt or tasted fear.
“It was easy then to tell truth from lies: Selling out from compromise: Who to love and who to hate: The foolish from the wise
“But today there is no day or night: Today there is no dark or light: Today there is no black or white: Only shades of gray.”
