Give me your music, your art, your huddled masses of words and rhythms yearning to breathe free.
Dana Spiardi 
With the sad passing of the ever-youthful Davy Jones last week, I beg the question: who was your favorite Monkee? For me it was pixie-faced Micky Dolenz, who turns 67 today. Why Micky? Well, like Ringo, the “real” drummer on which his TV character was modeled, he just charmed the heck out of me with his goofiness.
Every family has its folk tales — those sometimes sweet, often cringe-inducing stories we’re forced to endure at every holiday gathering. Like the time my grandfather decided to forgo dental expenses by removing his own teeth with the help of Canadian Club whiskey and a pair of pliers. Or that day back in 1960 when my prankster dad deposited a piece of fake rubber vomit on my aunt’s expensive new sofa. Ah, but not all of my family’s folk tales are gauche, mind you. In fact, at many gatherings the most anticipated and charming story of all involves the evening of February 9, 1964, when little Dana discovered the Beatles at age four. How my mom loves to spin the tale of the birth of her rockaholic daughter’s lifelong obsession!
The protagonist in the movie “What About Bob” attributes his failed marriage to this time-tested rule: “There are two types of people in the world — those who like Neil Diamond and those who don’t. My ex-wife loves him.” Well, despite the fact that Neil Diamond is sometimes rebuked by rockers for his symphonic serenades, I’m proud to say I’m a fan. He wrote some of the most memorable pop songs of the 1960s, including “Cherry, Cherry,” “I’m a Believer,” “Solitary Man,” and “Cracklin’ Rosie.” And he’s a good sport, too, appearing in movies (“Saving Silverman”) and TV shows (“Saturday Night Live”) that have playfully mocked him for his sometimes grandiose anthems and dramatic delivery.
Oh, Jimi Hendrix! Why did you have to swallow those 9 sleeping pills, suffocate in your own vomit, and deprive us of many more years of power-charged electric rock? You died 43 years ago today. We can only imagine what contributions you would have made had you not expired at age 27 in a London apartment.
On July 22, 2011, I had the pleasure of seeing two major pop/rock acts from the 1960s — The Young Rascals (now known as Felix Cavaliere and the Rascals) and Tommy James and The (new) Shondells — at the Chautauqua Institution, that venerable adult education center that began as a camp for Sunday school teachers in 1874!