'Ole Blue Eyes & Ties that Bind

Fly me to the moon...

Let me play among the stars.

Let me feel what Spring is like 

on Jupiter

and Mars.

In other words, hold my hand.

In other words,

darling,

Kiss me.

***

My children know the velvet voice of Frank Sinatra, for in this home, it has not been laid to rest. His smooth timbre serenades me with the songs that take me back to a time when broads cloaked themselves in femininity and gents only dressed "grunge" in their garage. Lucy and Ethel were stuffing their mouth with chocolates and it was still common practice to open a door for a lady. All across the fruited plains, children played outside until dusk or the dinner bell, whichever came first. Not all was sunshine and roses (by a long stretch) back then, I know. As one who never lived it there is something that lulls me into retrospective sentimentality, making me I wish I had.


I never lived it, but she did.

In the ritzy Crystal Ballroom at Carsonia Hall this snazzy young woman's feet hit the floor to the sounds of a new fella on the scene, a guy with startling blue eyes by the name of Frank Sinatra. The first dance, the first dance after intermission and the last were reserved for Teddy, her beau (who then became her beloved husband). The rest of the dances were open and by the sounds of it, they never stayed so for very long. This pretty little dame knew how to dance, how to have a good time and enjoyed doing so with men like Tommy Dorsey and Frank Sinatra only a "quickstep" away. She never stopped dancing all through her Frankie's career (only she eventually narrowed her partner down to one!).

She lived life in an era I never knew. But I know her.
Dolly is a tie that binds me to the history of this land that I love.
It never gets old hearing of those good old days. Not to me.

 Seventy-some years later, she still loves her a little Frank. Several weeks ago while here for a visit, her tired "pushing ninety-two" year blue eyes lit up at the sound of Frankie belting out "New York, New York" that I had put on just for her. With the speakers blaring (her ear's just aren't cooperating much anymore), the children danced after dinner while she sang along with as much vigor as she could muster...

If I can

MAKE IT THERE

I'll make it

ANYWHERE,

It's up to YOU,

New York, 

New York!

I wish you could have seen those 'ole blue eyes sparkle. 

I think it not wise that we forget, or leave forgotten, these living ties to a history we never knew. For it is from touching our past that we realize a little more of what we are made of. Those who lived then can impart the good that came from there era so that we might put it to good use it in ours. Wisdom is never out-of-date or irrelevant.

But now the days grow short

I'm in the autumn of the year

And now I think of my life as vintage wine

From fine old kegs

From the brim to the dregs

And it poured sweet and clear

It was a very good year

It was a mess of good years

Let's ask them to tell us about the
mess of good years. 

Then let's 
lean in close 
and 
listen.