In 1994, my then girlfriend, and now wife of over a quarter century purchased tickets for us to a concert by John Denver. I had never found his music particularly interesting, and dismissed it as pop. (Though of course I told her how much I'd enjoy it with her!

) The concert was held in a tent outdoors that held perhaps a couple hundred people.
I was familiar with him largely from his appearances on TV and films as a boyish, bashful, somewhat comical persona. I was shocked when instead a slightly stocky, broad shouldered man with great presence walked to the stage alone with his guitar. He began to sing and play unaccompanied. Perhaps a little tentative at first, as the audience warmed to his performance his music gained great power, opening deep wells of emotion and meaning. It was a truly great performance of memorable music to which his recordings do not do justice.
A few years later while trying out a kit aircraft he was considering buying on the Monterey Peninsula one of its two gas tanks went dry. As he wasn't familiar with the aircraft, and the control to switch to the other tank wasn't labeled, he lost all power. Rather than to attempt returning to the small field surrounded by homes, he took the plane out into the bay to attempt a water landing. He didn't make it.