This is my domain where my love for Old Hollywood will know no boundaries. It is here where my words will find their home with all the other lovers of the Golden Age of Hollywood; it is here where I'll be transported to the time of long forgotten yesterdays . . .
Happy Birthday to You/Happy Birthday to You/Happy Birthday Ol' Blue Eyes/Happy Birthday to You!
I, unlike "The Voice", cannot carry a tune, but that is of little matter. For he could carry a tune then, and from here to eternity (like my pun?) will still be able to carry a tune.
Music is a timeless piece of art. Though according to my brother, I'm 'too young to be acting so old', Frank's music can be, and is, enjoyed by anyone from any generation, young or old. His music touches so many, and will continue to touch people as long as they continue to listen. And they will continue to listen. They will listen until music is no more. Perhaps they might have to be given a litte nudge to finally become "introduced" to Frank, and his contemporaries, but if they have any smarts, any taste, they will realize that these fellas were--are--legends.
That's a dangerous word to use, for it's thrown around today like rice at a wedding. It's a word that many have forgotten the true meaning of. They were, as the Cole Porter song goes, 'the top', and everybody today is, in my opinion, 'the bottom'.
Frank's music is not only just for the 'young' or 'old', but also for the 'weak', 'strong', 'sad', 'happy', 'mad'. His music is for anyone that has a soul. It's for anyone that needs to laugh, to feel alive, and to cry. Frank, in every song I've ever heard him sing, put his whole being into the music. He made that song tell a story, not just any story, but his story. Not too many can claim to do the same. Not then, and not now.
So, in salute, I listen to Frank's music, his stories, his life, and today, I say: Happy ninty-six birthday, Frank.