“Holding on is believing that there’s only a past; letting go is knowing that there’s a future.” (Daphne Rose Kingma)

I read with sadness recent news that another notable teen idol from my childhood, Bobby Sherman, was now struggling in his battle with Stage IV cancer at the age of 81. Cancer is a beast with tentacles, wrapping itself around every part of a person’s life. 

Bobby was another pop stardom zeitgeist from the late 60’s and early 70’s, having risen to the dizzying heights of official heartthrob-dom as an incredibly popular singer with a sweet-sounding voice and respectable acting skills. His songs were chart topping hits that created more fantasy in the minds of teenagers named Julie, as he sang “Julie, Do Ya Love Me?” with the same handsome face that landed him the role of “Jeremy,” the dreamy cowboy loving brother in the television series, “Here Come the Brides.”   

When Hollywood stopped calling, Bobby didn’t spiral into an existential crisis chasing the fading glow of celebrity. Instead, he reinvented himself through a life of service. He became a paramedic in the sprawling city of Los Angeles and volunteered with the Los Angeles Police Department, where he served as a medical training officer until 2017. In 1999, he was named the LAPD’s Reserve Officer of the Year. Along the way, he and his wife co-founded a foundation that provides educational and music programs for children in Ghana. Quite an accomplishment for the man whose toothy grin once smiled from the cover of Tiger Beat.

Bobby became an alchemist in his own life, transforming one chapter into another with grace. We often describe this as “playing the hand you’ve been dealt,” but it’s something deeper than resignation. It is the wisdom to recognize that life is full of unexpected turns, that new arrows appear just around the bend, and that each detour holds the possibility of an entirely different adventure.

It’s a refined dance. It takes balance to protect your dreams while embracing the reality of the present moment. I once believed the “scripted life” held the greatest appeal—an existence following the familiar trajectory so many pursue in search of peace and security. As I’ve grown older and experienced my own unexpected turns, I’ve let go of that notion. While I still crave the tranquility that accompanies predictability, I find myself increasingly drawn to the possibilities that begin with the simple question: What can be? 

Wishing Bobby peace, love and healing.