We got cable when I was 11 years old. Before that, it wasn't available. The lines hadn't been installed as far south as my parents lived which is a bit comical considering they live on a major highway just four miles south of town. I remember the first summer of cable. I watched more television in those short months than I've probably watched in the last five years. There were so many choices that I wanted to watch everything.
Before cable though, I had the Monkees. Our pre-cable television consisted of channels 3, 9, and 12 with bad reception on three more channels including my favorite, 53. I can't tell you today what the actual channel was. That was long ago before every channel had a moniker like CW, USA, MTV or all those others I choose to remain oblivious about.
On channel 53, I watched fabulous shows that are probably unknown to you like the Ozzie and Harriet Show, the Gong Show, and my favorite, the Monkees. Even then, the Monkees was simply long ago repeats being replayed. The originals had aired more than a decade before my birth. I loved the Monkees. Their life seemed so fantastic. I knew it wasn't real but I enjoyed it just the same.
I remember clearly the day I found a Monkees tape at Chatsworth Sales. Chatsworth Sales was our local video rental store that also sold other things like cassette tapes. I didn't get to buy the Monkees tape that day but my mother eventually caved in and bought it for me.
You know the Monkees even if you don't know them by name. You've heard their songs many times in your lives even if you didn't know the artist. They are part of the soundtrack of my youth, distant strains from my past.
I'll miss you Davy.
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