Oh, Andy

My Saturday had been busy and I was running close to the wire, but I knew I had to stop everything before 5:00 p.m. and sit myself down in front of the television, for the best of the Andy Williams Christmas television specials was airing on PBS.  I've seen the show perhaps half a dozen times, but I just couldn't miss it, especially since this would be the first Christmas since Andy had passed away.  Usually when I see this particular TV special, I sing along with Andy, with him and his brothers, and with the Osmonds.  But, alas, this year, my cold had total control of my vocal cords and all that would come out was a whisper or a husky croaking sound that didn't even faintly resemble my singing voice.  So, I plunked myself down in the big leather easy chair and tapped my feet on the ottoman to the beat of Andy's lovely renditions of one great Christmas classic after another and I kept my mouth shut.  Oh, how I loved Andy's smooth tones, and when he sang with his brothers, the harmonic blend was as smooth as butter.  Andy's Christmas specials taught us that our relationships with family (or friends who feel like family) are precious and that we need to make memories with them as much as possible for current enjoyment and future joyful reflection.  Sleep in heavenly peace, Andy.

Moon River and Me

One of my favorite singers, Andy Williams, passed away recently.  Oh, how I loved to hear him sing!  From "Can't Get Used to Losing You" to "Music to Watch Girls Go By," I was a faithful fan of that silky-sounding crooner.  His Christmas songs, from "Ave Maria" to "Let It Snow," were always impeccably done, his voice never wavering or cracking or hitting a sour note.  His was truly a smooth voice out of what appeared to be a casual disposition.  The PBS show that has run in recent years, featuring highlights of the Christmas episodes of his popular 1960s TV show, is still one of my all-time favorites.  Hearing Andy sing with his equally smooth-sounding brothers was a highlight of those programs.  Larry and I were dining at a local supper club on the Friday after Andy Williams' death when the pianist played "Moon River," Andy's signature song.  It made me sigh that I never got my chance:  Although he was old enough to be my dad, I have fantasized most of my life that I'd get an opportunity to sing on stage with Andy Williams.  How I was going to do that, I have no clue, but if I'd ever been given the opportunity, I would have gladly harmonized with him and I think we would have made a grand duo (although Andy may not have thought so!). Now, I'll have to just resort to harmonizing with Andy Williams while watching him on You Tube.  Farewell, Andy.  I can't get used to losing you.