Jan. 1970

That was how I normally felt during a one of my depressed days. Not much different, just sad and uninterested.

But as the year came to a close The Monkees too started to show even more signs of the nearing end. We couldn't agree on much anymore. The image or sound of the band, the instruments to be used, the vocals to be used, etc. By Christmas time Peter had decided that he was finished. He was going to finish the album with us and then leave.

I couldn't believe he would ever leave! But then again I wasn't that surprising. He wasn't the most patient person and he wanted to make a difference with his music. The Monkees weren't making much of a difference anymore.

This last album of ours was coming along terribly. Every morning I woke up with a feeling of dread, because the daytime that followed would be filled with writing songs, tearing them to pieces and starting over again.

Every morning I woke up depressed and sleep proved ineffective in reversing my mood. I often snapped at reporters, my friends, and my wife. I would immediately apologize and she would forgive me with a smile. Sam knew the stress I was under and accepted that I would need help to be happy again. She did everything in her power to get me to smile, but nothing could persuade my frown to become anything better.

At work the guys and I tried to focus on the songs but we never could. We'd either chase rabbit trails about our families or funny thing that had happened to us, or we would break up the day early because of an argument.

On the days we ended with an argument I would stay behind at the studio and write down more ideas for the music and lyrics to the particular song we had been working on that day. The writing would occupy my mind with something other than my friends fighting.

Sometimes one of the boys would stay behind and talk to me as I wrote.

If it was Davy or Mike they would usually complain to me about the other two members of our band. Peter would sometimes add little snippets of comments about the others but mostly he would ask me questions.

Peter would ask me about my wife and daughter, or about how my mother and sister were, and I would tell him all about the trouble or lack thereof in my family. He would in turn offer me news of his domestic life.

This seems at first glance to be the better day. But surprisingly it hurt the most. I knew Peter was leaving us. He wasn't complaining about our mutual friends but he was lying. He seemed to issue the air that everything was and would forever be, okay. But he was wrong and I knew it. When he left I would be left with Michael and Davy. It wasn't anything against them. By themselves they were good enough, and just as a group of friends they got along fine. But working together was a disaster! They fought more than any two people I've ever met! Peter knew that their arguments brought me down. How could he just leave me with them?

I despised the fact that Peter had decided to leave the Monkees. I felt as if his casual demeanor was a mockery to me. A show of, look at me! I'm getting out! I have the freedom to get out!

It was a mockery because I didn't have that freedom. I couldn't just leave the Monkees, I had no place to go.

Luckily today wasn't either one of those terrible days. This day went rather smoothly. Mike had come in announcing that Phyllis had agreed that he could have Christian on the weekends.

Today was a happy day for all of us. Christian was Michael's son from his first marriage which had ended mid1969. It had been a nice, easy divorce. No complications or arguments over belongings. Surprisingly the only thing Mike found to fuss about was visitation of his son. Even then it wasn't much of a fight. Phyllis had been completely on board with Mike seeing his son. She just didn't want Mike to keep him for a full week. Once Mike became desperate to see Christian, he offered to come down to only the weekend. Phyllis finally agreed.

We'd all known Christian his whole life. He had been born the right after our auditions for the Monkee's Television show. We'd all spent a lots of time with him. Me especially. I was like a second father to that boy. I changed his diapers and feed him meals. And when his parents were separated he came to live with me for a couple of weeks until their tempers died down. There was nothing I wouldn't do for him.

Sadly, when Mike and Phyllis saw fit to end their marriage Phyllis moved away and we didn't see Christian for more than six months.

We celebrated Mike's good fortune with alcohol and music. Mike wrote two full songs just by picking up his guitar and playing whatever notes came to his mind. Peter fingered out a tune on his keyboard and wrote it down. He took it home that night and added a complex series of words to it. I picked up an acoustic guitar from the studio and strummed along with Mike, or added to Peter's keyboard melody. Davy hummed along and beat out a rhythm with the drums.

We were all laughing, and happy. Nothing could have turned our mood around. Nothing! It was just like old time. Maybe. I thought. Just maybe thing will be okay again. Maye Peter won't leave, and Mike and Davy will stop fighting.

I didn't really believe that. But I liked the thought, so why not keep thinking it?

By the end of the day the four of us had built back the bridges we'd burned.

"Hey guys. Since we're all getting along better now, I wanted to invite you all over to our house on Saturday." I said with a smile.

"Oh wow Mick! Thanks!"

"I'll be there!"

"Saturday is little Ami's birthday isn't it?" Peter asked.

"You're welcome, and yes it is."

"How old will she be again?" Davy inquired.

"One." I said.

"Only one?!" Mike was astonished.

"Yeah, I know it feels like forever ago." Peter said with a smile.

"Not to me! I feel like just yesterday Sammy and I were getting married. Now we have a year old daughter?! I can't believe she's going to be one year old already."

Mike put a hand on my shoulder. "Time flies!"

"It sure does." Davy nodded.

A satisfied silence followed. None of us felt we had anything to add. The day had been perfect, not one of us wanted to ruin it.

"I think it's about time for me to get back home to the Mrs." Davy joked. He winked at me and stood up off of Peter's lap.

"Hold up David!" Mike said.

Davy stopped at the door.

"Got your hat?" Mike asked.

"Cab fair?" I added.

"It might rain better get your galoshes." Mike joked.

"You boys are out of your birds." Davy laughed.

I stood up and walked to Davy's side. "Your mother and I have been worried about you for some time now David." I said in a motherly voice.

Peter had picked up Mike's guitar and held it on his shoulder as he had held the giant hand in the Pilot episode of the TV show.

"And think of the awful example you're setting for your little brother." Pete couldn't help but smile as he talked with a girly accent.

I got down on my knees at Davy's feet and folded my hands. "Kachicka-chicka-chi-ka-kachoo!" I baby talked him.

Davy rolled his eyes with a smile and left.

"Don't talk to no strangers after midnight!" Mike called out after him.

I returned to the couch where Mike and Peter were still laughing about what had just occurred. I was surprised we all still remembered the lines we spoke so long ago in the first episode of the Monkees.

Mike lit his third cigarette for the day. And offered one to both me and Peter.

"I thought you were trying to quit?" Peter asked Mike.

"I was. But then Micky told me about Van's stash and now my life is ruined." Mike stuck his tongue out a little bit. "Besides it's not killing me yet, so why should I quit?"

"Scientists are saying that they are causing health issues." I informed Mike.

"Yeah? Well scientists also think the world was created by evolution, and that was disproved over a hundred years ago." Mike offered.

"Where did you hear that?" Peter asked.

"This guy, the one who won the Noble Peace Prize in 1966, he said in his speech that there were only two possible ways that universe could have been created. Either a God of some kind formed it into being, or the big bang. He then went on to say that evolution had been disproved over a hundred years ago, but that he refused to believe in a God. So he chose to believe the impossible: Evolution." Mike explained.

I nodded. "That's a pretty crappy argument on his part."

Peter nodded as well. "Where did that even come from though?" He asked.

"I don't know man..." Mike chuckled. Michael looked down at his wrist watch. "I've got to get up early tomorrow to meet Phyllis, so I better get going." He then stood up to leave.

"Goodbye guys!" He called.

"Bye Mike!" I said.

"Yeah, Bye Michael."

Again it was me and Peter, alone. Neither of us said a word to the other. I was thinking of how I would get home. I had walked to work this morning because of how beautiful the day looked. But should I really walk home in the dark? After about twenty minutes I turned to look at the clock. It read 10:30 P.M.

"I guess I should get going." I sighed. I had about an hour's worth of walking ahead of me.

"I need to go home as well." Peter informed me.

The two of us walked out together and locked up the studio. Peter offered me a ride home.

"Today was a good day." I sighed.

"It was good." Peter smiled.

"We haven't had that much fun since Head." I laughed.

"You haven't smiled so much since head." Peter informed me. He wasn't joking though. He was dead serious.

I let fall my mostly fake smile.

"Micky, are you alright?" He asked.

I couldn't tell him the truth! Could I?

"What do you mean?" I inquired.

"I mean is something bothering you?"

"No. Not right now." I lied.

"You sure? Because I'm always here if you want to talk." Peter offered himself to me.

"Thanks man, but right now I don't need a shrink." I laughed breathy.

Peter smiled, but I knew he didn't believe me. He cranked up his VW van and drove out into the suburbs.