Mike Nesmith: The Leader Who Taught Me.
December 10, 2021 started off like any other day for me: work in the morning, leave around 1:30, hop the M train home and then go and snuggle with my cat Mercury. Standard Friday.
Just as I was leaving my job, I felt the familiar buzz from my phone in my coat pocket. I stopped in the hallway that was leading to an exit when I read the text from my friend.
“RIP Mike Nesmith”
Mike Nesmith. The Monkee? The man with the wool hat who was quiet, yet always knew what to say when the moment called? No. That didn’t seem right.
I quickly went to the side so I wasn’t blocking anybody and quickly checked Twitter, Facebook — any social media, basically — making sure it wasn’t some dumb rumor some idiot started. Unlike some, I DO remember the big Bon Jovi death hoax of 2011 that caused a lot of people to freak out and rush to Facebook to make the standard RIP post. I was not about to be that person. One quick check to Rolling Stones Magazine proved it.
Mike Nesmith, dead at 78.
I was numb. I then just went about my route going to the M train, but this time I played my Monkee playlist, mainly my favorite Mike songs. As the day progressed and I went into Saturday, the lingering sadness didn’t go away. I was honestly still in shock. I started to remember some of my childhood memories, I grew up watching the Monkees. I remember watching the full episodes when they were uploaded online and I would sit on the couch with my little white Acer laptop and my big headphones and I would watch until my mom made me go to bed.
Mike was the one I related to the most being the leader and all. I was what you called the “Mature” child. The one 7, 8, 9 year old girl talking like an adult, talking to other adults as if I was one myself. I knew I was different, You know being a very mature kid who talked like an adult was exhausting sometimes because either I would get “Wow she’s smart! Sounds like a mini adult. Mature for her age” and I had to dumb myself down or I would get “ugh she’s gonna get teased because she doesn’t like today things.” I couldn’t help it. But watching the Monkees helped me escape to another reality where I was understood. Because I felt like Mike was relatable to me and he was listening, he was ready to give out advice. In the show Mike is seen as the leader, taking care of his bandmates and brothers in arms, anytime Davy, Micky, or Peter found themselves in trouble they would simply call out “MIIIKE!” And just like that Mike appeared. I guess you could say I grew up doing the same.
Growing up, I helped raise my siblings. I LOVED helping my parents take care of them be it making bottles, holding them, and even putting them to bed more than a few times. It’s quite an age gap with me being 6 years and 7 years apart from my little sister and brother. I was the leader of the kids, and even the leader in my friend group. When watching the Monkees I would always watch Mike, especially because he always knew what to do and how to solve things. And even now with my roommates I take care of the bill accounts and the landlord, just like how Mike did in the show with their landlord. And I’m more than happy to do it. Mike really did teach me to be a leader and to stand up in what I believed in when things felt wrong. How many episodes was he the voice of reason? Mostly all. Then you see the behind the scenes of how much he cared for his passion, writing these amazing songs and advocating for the Monkees to record their music themselves. He was so inspiring.
The Monkees taught me how to be a storyteller. My mom knew I was a big storyteller, so I would literally reenact Monkee episodes while she fed the kids. It’s how I became a storyteller. I’ll never forget when I recounted the episode ‘The Chaperone’ and my mom just smiled and said “G, you’re a wonderful storyteller.” That just made me want to recount more Monkees episodes to her and anyone who would listen. Of course my stories would always usually revolve around how Mike would help and solve everything and take control of the situation.
Though feeling seen through my recount of Monkees episodes and my admiration of Mike, I was still that 7, 8, 9 year old child and well…The Monkees weren’t in at that time. It was all about Hannah Montana and the Jonas Brothers on the recess playground. No one my age knew who or what the Monkees were. I was lucky if someone my age knew who the Beatles were. Luckily a few years later I discovered tumblr in 2012. I was in the Monkees fandom then, and it was then people like me who loved the Monkees too no matter what age! That time I discovered so many talented authors and storytellers and we were all coming together to share our mutual love of the Monkees. I had never felt more seen then.
So imagine my shock to find out Mike’s gone. He was literally just in NYC around the same time I was making my Off Broadway debut, now a real adult at the age of 22, and needing more advice about how to do this adult thing more than ever from my mainstay Mike. He was just here and I saw the videos from their concerts. Even older in age Mike still had it. Singing and lighting up with joy as he and Micky told stories. And now he’s just…gone. When I found out the other day it just sort of hit me, and jolted me with everything I knew like “wtf how?”
Mike to me was supposed to be immortal. He was never supposed to die at 78 no less. He had so many more lessons to teach me and I had so much more to learn from him. One of the things I am struggling with during this holiday season is loss of innocence. I do miss being a kid sometimes, doing nothing but help take care of the kids, listening to my iPod and curling up on the couch and watching the Monkees on my laptop. Now I work a job, pay my own bills, commute to and from places, and I’m raising a cat who I love more than anything. Now all I have of Mike are the memories, the reruns, the songs. I never realized just how important Mike Nesmith was to me until he was gone.
But I know now I just have to carry on the lessons that Mike taught me and be the leader I know I could be thanks to him. Teaching the way of the Nesmith, if you will, as my siblings come of age and as my little niece and nephew grow from babies, to toddlers to young kids themselves.
I will be there to be the “Mike” of the groups just like I’ve always been because as Mike once said in the episode The Devil and Peter Tork: “And if you love music, then you can play music. And all it takes is just love, because baby, in the final analysis love is power. That’s where the power’s at!”
Thank you for everything, Michael Nesmith, thank you for being the leader I looked up to and for teaching me the lessons you taught with your strength and wisdom. You’ll never be forgotten.
