But how much, baby, do we really need

Kiki asked for, and got, a Jonas Brothers CD for Christmas.

We have been inundated with Jonas Brothers trivia, Jonas Brothers music, and Jonas Brothers photos for two days now.

EG informed me, "It's just a phase."

No one knows this better than I do. I remember being enamored of the Monkees (does that date me, or what)--their TV show, their albums (oops, dating myself again), and their posters. I was charmed by Davy Jones, so cute, and with that dashing English accent. And the music? Wow.

Most of my infatuation with the Monkees died out, but I still enjoyed the music. Daydream Believer, despite its cryptic lyrics, has remained one song which can cheer me up no matter what, immediately transporting me back to our garage on a sweaty summer day, our maroon plastic record player blasting the lyrics over and over again, probably driving my poor parents to total distraction.


Cheer up, sleepy jean.
Oh, what can it mean.
To a daydream believer
And a homecoming queen.
Cheer up, sleepy jean.
Oh, what can it mean.
To a daydream believer
And a homecoming queen.

Imagine my consternation this morning when I read in the paper's annual review of notable deaths, that John Stewart, the writer of Daydream Believer, had died this year. I really felt old as the Jonas Brothers played and sang in the background, their prepubescent-sounding voices cheerful and sweet, transporting Kiki to that same dreamy place of simplicity and innocence I was so long ago.

Oh, and our good times starts and end
Without dollar one to spend.
But how much, baby, do we really need.

Simplicity, innocence, and dreams--what more can we ask for.