Spirit Matters: Bob Newhart and his soulful gifts

When Bob Newhart died last week at the age of 94, I felt a personal loss.

That happens when someone has impacted your soul, even when you have never met one another.

Newhart was significant in my adolescence and early teen years during the 1980s. His television show “Newhart” was one of my favorites, and in bingeing old episodes this week with my husband, it is easy to understand why. (“Newhart” should not to be confused with his other popular 1970s comedy, “The Bob Newhart Show,” starring him as psychologist Bob Hartley and Suzanne Pleshette as his wife, Emily.)

“Newhart” starred Newhart and Mary Frann as Dick and Joanna Loudon, who purchase and operate the charming and cozy Stratford Inn in Vermont. The inn hosts a wide array of unique guests, and Dick’s interactions with them and the inn’s employees generate many laughs.

It never got old to me when three brothers arrived at the inn and one of them, Larry, introduced himself and his two brothers to Dick and Joanna every time in a flat voice: “Hi. I’m Larry. This is my brother Darryl, and this is my other brother, Darryl.”

Newhart’s comedic style was in a class of its own. His deadpan delivery and impeccable timing is what great comedy is made of. And he did not resort to cheap content to elicit full-on laughter. I have noticed Newhart occasionally would smile-laugh at his own jokes, which, to me, made it even funnier.

When we watched first-season “Newhart” episodes this week, I couldn’t help but feel my heart pulled back to my childhood, filled with nostalgia.

Newhart and the rest of the cast made viewers feel like they were really at a Vermont inn, witnessing the day-to-day comings and goings of the staff and their guests.

I couldn’t help but notice the absence of technology. This was the early ’80s, so there were no personal computers, laptops, iPads, smartphones, internet, social media … none of it. The phone on the counter at the inn was an old-school landline with a genuine phone ring. (Those of you who know, know.)

It was this complete absence of technology that allowed me to remember a time when people were less controlled by outside forces and more driven by their inner character, the qualities and interests that made them unique – their essence, their soul.

In my opinion, that is what our 21st century world, so plastic in so many ways, is missing the most right now – that sense of soul. That sense of genuineness and authenticity, no matter how offbeat and quirky. That sense of connection to the great outdoors, and that sense of intimate, soulful connection to our families and friends.

Real interactions. Real conversations. Real life.

It often is easy to despair that sense of soul is forever lost to an increasingly plastic world, made so by modern technology, which continues to advance at a rapid rate.

Fortunately, that isn’t the case, because we each have a soul – a uniquely imprinted character – and no matter how hidden it might get from outside sources, it is eternally renewable.

We can decide, each one of us, to excavate our unique souls by putting down our kindles and picking up a book; by cooking real food at home instead of getting carryout; by eating at the table with our loved ones and dialoguing about our lives and our interests; by having a board game night, with all technological appendages turned to the off position and out of sight; by going outside, our natural home, and breathing the fresh air that renews us in body, mind and spirit …

I feel strongly about all of this for a good reason.

This Saturday, July 27, is the 35th anniversary of the day my cousin Chris died in a hit-and-run accident at the age of 12.

I, and my cousins and siblings grew up with Chris during those 12 years doing all of the things I listed above and more. It was during those times that we got to know Chris’s soul, his character, his likes and dislikes, his talents and interests. It was during those times that we each became forever interconnected with one another, even beyond the ability of death to break.

Because of all that time spent together – talking to each other, hanging out, engaging in creative play – that substance that makes Chris Chris is indestructibly and forever a part of each one of us. It is what makes me able to still hear his voice and see his smile in my heart 35 years later.

In carrying that part of him forward into our own lives and all of our interactions, he will, indeed, live forever.

Now, please – PLEASE – go rediscover your soul and the soul of the world around you.

Don’t waste your “one wild and precious life” any longer.

SPIRIT MATTERS is a weekly column by Jerrilyn Zavada Novak that examines experiences common to the human spirit. Contact her at jzblue33@yahoo.com.