Since I was a young child, the voice of Andy Williams spilled out of every available speaker from somewhere. Whether it was from the radio, from an LP, or, from a television set, Mr Williams’ recognizable voice was a warmly familiar sound.
Around our house, he was best known as Mr Christmas. All of his many Christmas specials were avidly watched. His versions of the many Christmas songs that played during the holidays were perhaps the only ones that really mattered. Even today, I cannot hear “The Most Wonderful Time” without hearing Andy Williams’ version. Even if someone else is singing it, Mr Williams’ version will trump it.
As I grew older, my fondness for Andy Williams grew with me. My children, while not getting the benefit of watching an Andy Williams special (except for those found on DVD), developed a deep fondness for Andy Williams.
Today, the loss of Mr Williams was a great loss indeed. He may not have been actively recording, but the fact that the voice that sang all of those loved tunes was still alive somehow gave me a sense of confidence that all was still right with the world. I’m sure that came from all of the good times that I felt when I heard him. Now, with his passing, I feel as if I have crossed a divide of my own.
Mr Williams, I will miss you. I’m sure that many more, so many more than I feel the same about your departure. “Moon River:, and “The Most Wonderful Time” are still here. And I’m happy about that.
Thank you, Andy Williams. Thanks for the memories. They still keep my heart at peace.
Andy Williams
1927-2012
(84)
RIP
Andy Williams was a part of my television and stereo childhood. What he meant to me, looking back, was a universal entertainer at a time when the whole family together would watch and listen. All age barriers disappeared, much like with Ed Sullivan, for an hour each week and Christmas specials, introducing the Osmond Brothers, were highlights. He was an incredible singer.
Andy Williams’ death really underscores the “part of you has died”, doesn’t it?