We lost David Bowie this year. Although it’s been a while ago now, it was on my mind today. It often seems that when someone famous dies, people are quick to claim they were their biggest fan. I can’t help but think of the episode of The Office where Ryan declares his devastation over the fact that Smokey Robinson has died, yet, when pressed by Pam, could not name a single song other than "The Tears of a Clown". It seems that we, as human beings, like to feel every loss personally and often exaggerate our personal connection to tragedies. Stars somehow seem to belong to us all and we all like to have a story.

I really loved David Bowie. And I have a story.

During the early 80s, I was what was commonly referred to as a "Duranie"-- a young teen who lived and breathed all things Simon, John, Roger, Andy and Nick. I could recite every line from their documentary Sing Blue Silver, clumsily perform every pelvic gyration that lead singer Simon LeBon made on stage, and spend endless hours filling scrapbooks to over flowing with every article, photo, and scrap of Duran Duran trivia from Teen Beat magazine that I could find.

It was among that pile of trivia that I learned that bassist John Taylor loved Rice Krispies and that his favorite song was “Changes” by David Bowie. This was interesting. I sort of knew Bowie from his radio hits off the album Let’s Dance but was rather ambivalent about the songs.

I can’t remember where I got my copy of ChangesOneBowie (his first compilation album of early hits) but it was a good introduction. I devoured it and immediately understood why John Taylor (and so many others) loved “Changes”:

“and these children that you step on as they try to change their world, are immune to your consultations, they're quite aware what they’re going through…….Changes” . The lyrics were a simple yet powerful confirmation to an uncertain and very idealistic teen like myself.

"Got your mother in a whirl, she’s not sure if you’re a boy or a girl” (Rebel Rebel). The androgyny was new and exciting to my fairly provincial self. Both the music and the artist had a quality that I couldn’t quite understand --they made me feel both comfortable and yet strangely uncomfortable at the same time. Bowie was odd and it was the first time I realized I really like odd.

At 13, my first boyfriend was a boy named David Jones. Early on he informed me that David Jones was David Bowie's birth name. I really liked him for that.

A few years later, the movie Labyrinth was released--allowing a generation of young girls to fall in love with the super sexy Goblin King that was David Bowie. I know I spent quite a few hours daydreaming that I was Jennifer Connelly in that film.

I first saw Bowie in concert in 1987 on his Glass Spider tour-- supporting the album Never Let Me Down. I was 17 years old and in my first semester away at college. My roommate and I had great floor seats and I remember being in absolute awe of the color, sound and circus-like spectacle of the whole thing. Art, fashion and music fused seamlessly. (And who wouldn't love a giant spider encompassing the stage!) It made me wish that I had been around to see Bowie during his Ziggy Stardust years. Though the album was widely panned, it was nonetheless an amazing show.

The next time I saw Bowie was in 1990. I was spending the summer studying British drama in England. Towards the end of the term, most of my fellow students had decided to travel to see Roger Waters perform at the Wall in Berlin but I was more interested in seeing Bowie perform at Milton Keynes stadium on his Sound and Vision tour. It had been widely noted that this would be the last time he would perform his early hits live. I traveled solo by train and bus across the country in what would be my first real adventure. I have the romantic memories of being young, gothically pale, red-lipped and free in radiantly liberal England. My narcissistic 19 year old self thought Bowie was singing (the not entirely flattering) "Young Americans" just for me as I was tossed about in a sea of British fans. Even missing the last train home was OK, and having to sleep with my fellow concert goers on the floor of the train station only added to the magic.

On our first date in 1998, my husband and I both shared that Bowie was our favorite artist. I feel that revelation somehow sealed the deal at that moment.

Years later, our son would learn to perform classics like Space Oddity and Changes, singing and playing the piano for school talent shows and other events--introducing his grade school friends to the wonders of early Bowie.

As I've gotten older, I've realized that many of Bowie's albums are hit or miss. The 90s and 00s were not particularly good for him although my husband strongly disagrees (he is one of the only people I know who loved Bowie's short-lived 90s band Tin Machine). But his most recent albums Next Day and Blackstar are inarguably fantastic and definitely his swansongs (the word is based on the incredibly lovely idea that swans sing their most beautiful songs right before their death).

David Bowie was an odd and magical being who came from the mundane suburbs of London. However if I didn't know better, I would think he came directly from the stars. He has kept me captivated for a lifetime. (Thank you John Taylor.)

Really hard to narrow down, but here are my Top Ten David Bowie Songs:

1. Heroes from Heroes 1977

2. Oh! You Pretty Things from Hunky Dory 1971

3. Space Oddity from Space Oddity 1969

4. Ashes to Ashes from Scary Monsters (And Super Creeps) 1980

5. Life on Mars? from Hunky Dory 1971

6. Starman from the Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust 1972

7. The Stars (Are Out Tonight) from The Next Day 2013

8. Rebel Rebel from Diamond Dogs 1974

9. Absolute Beginners from the Absolute Beginners Soundtrack 1986

10. Lazarus from Blackstar 2016