When I was very young I had a crush on Davy Jones from the Monkees. Somehow this information filtered up to my older sisters and they descended upon me with, “You cannot like Davy Jones. He is a Monkee. Nobody likes The Monkees; they’re not a real band.”
Well, I was five years old and I thought Davy Jones was cute.
“You have to like The Beatles. Which one do you like best?”
My sister who was a year older was included in the survey. The two of us looked at the row of men in shiny uniforms from the Sgt. Pepper album cover. She chose Ringo and I chose George.*
“You CAN’T like Ringo or George. Nobody likes them – who do you like better, John or Paul?”
My year-older sister chose John and I chose Paul. Later we conferred and confessed that we really liked Ringo and George better, but we would never tell.
I definitely never admitted that I still liked Davy Jones, that is, until that David Cassidy boy came along….
*Note: A younger sister’s “I told you so”: