Digressions: My Life in 500 Words or Less

By the time I bought my first Olivia Newton-John album I was a teenager living in Radcliff, Kentucky. It was the mid-70s, and Olivia Newton-John had already established herself in the music world.

Despite the fact Olivia Newton-John was known primarily as a country singer back then — and I was not a country music fan — I was captivated by her voice.

That voice.

That voice was so clear, so pure. That voice wo so distinct, so exceptional.

I was 14 or 15 when I bought the album “Have You Never Been Mellow.” The music on that album still contained country music influences, but pop elements made their way into the songs, too.

In the years that followed, Olivia’s music shifted exclusively to pop. She released numerous albums that made it into my collection. She starred in “Grease” and “Xanadu,” and provided songs for those soundtracks as well.

But this isn’t a biography of Olivia Newton-John. This isn’t about specific songs, celebrity fandom or even a teen crush.

This is about connection. This is about how we link our connections to other parts of our lives and how certain connections in our lives persist beyond our initial introduction to them.

This is about how our lives can be touched by strangers. And this is about how we recognize special influences.

I’ve felt a deep sadness about the recent death of Olivia Newton-John.

Some might say this is because her music was so much a part of my life, and I’m sure that holds some truth. But it is not the entire reason.

I think it is a lot of things.

For one thing, my mom, who passed away in 2007, also admired Olivia’s voice. Losing Olivia is like losing a part of my mom again.

Another thing might be the basic core of Olivia’s being. She always seemed to be genuine and kind, and those qualities shone through. That sentiment was echoed by so many of her friends after her death, who spoke of her sincerity, kindness and bravery even through her personal battle with cancer.

So maybe I’m also feeling that a bit of — as she was fond of referencing in her correspondence — “love and light” is gone from the world. Maybe it’s the realization that, despite the fact I never saw her in person, never kept up with every aspect of her life, never purported to be her greatest fan, I felt a connection to her as a human and appreciated her existence.

So this isn’t about one thing. This is about all those things.

This is about memory, strength, perseverance and art.

And that voice.

That voice.