Fulfilling the dream of a lifetime

As a journalist working for a weekly newspaper, I could probably have acquired a free copy of "Moon River and Me" -- the memoir by famous crooner, Andy Williams -- with the promise to write a book review.

I didn't do that because this was no news story. This was an intensely personal event to meet a man I've admired for nearly a lifetime. For me, this was to be the fulfillment of a dream.

Since Andy Williams built his own theater in Branson, MO in the early 1990's, people from all over the country have flocked there to hear Andy's smooth, rich voice described by President Ronald Reagan as a national treasure. I didn't meet Andy Williams at his theater either.

What I did do though, was so much better, at least in my opinion. I got to meet Andy Williams in an informal setting, at a scheduled book-signing where I bought a copy of his memoir. The setting was a little too informal for a man who has entertained royalty and sung at the world's greatest venues. It was at a Sam's Club in Springfield, MO. Surreal or not, I was able to meet him and tell him I was probably his biggest fan.

His response was predictable. "Oh you are?" he said.I wonder how many thousands of times has he met "his biggest fans"?

As my husband and I traveled nearly three hours to Springfield, I wondered just what I would say to this man whose face was as familiar to me as that of my own late father, for which Andy shares a slight resemblance. Perhaps that might explain my intense attraction to him. Both he and my Dad had the same, smiling blue eyes, similar build, coloring, demeanor and sense of humor.

As I thought about those first words, I was saddened by the realization that there was nothing I could say to him that would convey the depth of affection I have felt for him or what his music has meant to me for more than forty years. How could I express that his music has brought me comfort or joy during sad or painful parts of my life? What words are there to explain that his music was always the exclamation point that sanctioned important events I've known in my life?

I recall bringing my first child home from the hospital. No moment can be better than all the promise that comes with welcoming a new baby into the family. But as I rocked my new daughter to sleep thirty years ago, Andy and I sang her songs, like "Dear Heart," "Sweet Memories," and "Born Free." That timeless music helped me sweeten an already beautiful moment.

Then, when my son was born two years later, the singing continued. Listening to the words that I used to think were limited to the love between a man and a woman -- songs about hope, promise, and everlasting love -- also applied to the love between a mother and child.

If I was feeling sad, Andy's music comforted me.

He was the only vocalist for us at Christmas as he helped decorate the Christmas tree.

I am grateful that at a young age I learned to appreciate good music, the kind he sang. It will always remain classic and timeless.

I'm often told I can't sing, but that never stopped me. I always sing with Andy, whose music has always moved me to tears. Whether just cleaning house, washing dishes, cooking, or any other activity, it all went better with Andy.

I admit — I have been enamored with Andy Williams since I was 14 years old. I treasured the albums I collected. But they were not just "collectibles," though they are certainly vintage. They have a kind of patina from being so well-worn. I have about a dozen of them. Their obsolescence never bothered me, for I also have Andy Williams' music on 8-tracks, cassettes, CD's and even a couple MP3's.

The first gift I ever received from a boy, way back during those innocent, puppy love days, was Andy Williams' "Warm and Willing" album. What a beautiful gift. It was the first record I ever had in stereo. Even though it was a duplicate of one I already had, mine was monaural — pre-stereo vinyl.

I've seen only four concerts in my life — two of them were Andy's concerts at Arie Crown Theater in Chicago. The first time I attended with friends. It was spectacular. I had never heard anything quite like it as Andy sang with a full orchestra accompaniment. The second time, my husband, John took me to see Andy. French pianist Michel Legrand shared the stage with him. I will never forget it. In fact, I always said John's taking me to see Andy Williams was the reason I married him.

John and I now live in the Ozarks. So does Andy, at least during most of the year. There was a standing joke at our house when we still lived in Illinois. John told me that when we moved to Arkansas, that we would be Andy's neighbors.

"We will probably run into him at the grocery store," he often quipped.

As we wheeled our grocery cart toward the fresh produce, I looked back to where I had met Andy Williams. He sat, signing autographs, a stack of books beside him and his Christmas CD playing in the background. He looked totally comfortable, but then, he too has made the Ozarks his home. He sat among people who really loved him — his neighbors. I couldn't help but smile, knowing that Andy Williams really was my neighbor and we met him in the grocery store.