Becoming the next Oliva

I buried my dreams of becoming the next Oliva Newton John and grieved.

The ceremony was quiet. I was the only one in attendance. I cried. I still do sometimes. A melody, a chord, a voice, a lyric will be enough to start the tears rolling down my eyes. 

We don’t just grief the people who died, passed on. Sometimes our tears and sorrows are for a life long dream that is no longer achievable. 

Here is my story and Olivia Newton John (RIP ❤️)

I grew up in Istanbul and went to an all girl school from 6th to 12th grade. 1982 the Movie Grease starring John Travolta and Olivia Newton John premiered in theaters all around Istanbul. I was mesmerized as a young teen. Ironically, I was studying French. But I fell in love with the English Language, American culture, the music, the characters. I must say that my journey to the USA started with the movie GREASE. The spell was cast, the decision was made: I was going to be the next Oliva Newton John when I grew up. I learned every song, memorized all the lyrics of almost every character and started singing them during recess to my classmates. 

Insanity was spreading: My friends joined me in the group numbers, our recess performances spread across the entire school.  All the grades above or below us would come to our classroom to listen to me and my friends perform GREASE LIGHTNING, Hopelessly devoted to you, Sandy! Next, I was called to the teacher’s lounge. Every teacher including Sister Ann Marie  would take time off at the end of their class and let me sing songs from Grease… Wow…It was so much fun. My first taste of stage and stardom. 

As I grew older, now in my senior year in highschool, I continued to sing, joined the school band and we entered a nationwide music competition. We WON the first place…There was an assembly at my school honoring me and the school band for the victory. I received an engraved silver plaque from the school (yes, I still have it)… After the competition, I was the young, up and coming female vocalist of the year. We were touring all around Istanbul, performing in different highschools…

I am going to be a star, I am going to be the next Oliva Newton John. 

There is a lot of talk of nepotism in the performing arts world.  Music industry as well as Holywood is crowded with “ Nepo babies” . Good for them! And if their parents were supportive, helpful, resourceful guides, even better. My father is a famous singer, songwriter and performer in Turkey. I refer to him as the Frank Sinatra of Turkey. And one might think this is an advantage for a young talent like me.  Well friends, think again. This was definitely not the case for me. This is obvious since I am not even close to being the next Oliva Newton John am I?

What I should have done was to continue singing on my own and see where it went. But instead I joined my father’s band in the summer of 1986. I was now under the direction of a very experienced, successful musical master. Just like a tough coach who is preparing you for the big race, at first, I thought: No Pain, No Gain. I follow directions, I do what I am told.  

But there was a bit more than that. Culture, upbringing, guilt, big personality, manipulation overcame the fun and excitement of the entertainment, and slowly the passion for singing diminished and the torture begun. 

Without getting into too many details, after a very painful 5-6 years, several attempts to break away, change careers, and live on my own, I gave up and fled. 

Year was 1992, the month was July, and I was a Turkish girl in New York city. The game is no longer becoming the next top singer, the game is called SURVIVOR. 

There are those times in one's life, when you are most vulnerable and you are looking for a sign, and if you do believe in God, or any other superior being, God decides to give you a little push. My Turkish elders would say  “Yaa Kulum”. The best way to translate this to English will be as God tells you: LETS GOO!

I met Dan on September 2nd. 

My life changed or maybe I should say, started over. Dan and I shared our first kiss after I sang to him, he was my biggest fan and supporter. He encouraged me to sing on every occasion and tried very hard to spark that passion I had for singing. When we talked about our dreams of growing old together, he was very clear: When he retired, he wanted to play golf and play his bass in a small pub with me singing by his side… 

Grief is like tumbleweed. While it is rolling around, it grabs everything it can get a hold of and ties them up in a knot. 

I will never stop grieving Dan and I will never stop grieving about giving up my dream of becoming the next Oliva Newton John. 

A dear friend of mine, during a social gathering asked me once if I would sing a song to her. This happens a lot and it is usually with friends from the past life, from the old country… When I declined my friend’s request, she said: “ I have never met someone with such a beautiful voice who hates singing!”. Ahh, my dear friend; it is not because I hate singing, can’t you see?  It is too painful for me. My grief is greater than singing.