At 80, Micky Dolenz stood still under the summer night sky, the roar of 100,000 fans fading into a hush as he whispered the first words of “Mama, I’m Coming Home.” It wasn’t planned. No spotlight. No showbiz grin. Just a trembling voice, heavy with memory, rising through the stillness like a prayer. For a moment, the decades fell away — and he wasn’t a legend on a grand stage, but a boy again, chasing echoes down some quiet hallway of time. “Back to the beginning,” he murmured afterward, eyes glassy. “For Ozzy… and maybe for me too.”
At 80 years old, Micky Dolenz didn’t come for the spotlight. He didn’t arrive with rehearsals or stage direction. And…