A Nibble and a Kiss.
“Ol’ Blue Eyes” left his mark on my leg,
and my heart.
“Frank Sinatra bit me on my leg.”
That was my line. I would say it over and over, on cue, and everyone would ooh and ahh.
The first time I remember meeting Frank Sinatra, I was very little. It was in a helicopter when my dad was on his way with Frank somewhere. I wanted to say goodbye to my dad and see the cockpit, and there he was. I remember his blue eyes smiling at me.
It wasn’t long after that I met him again. This time it was more planned. My sister and I were in matching blue dotted-swiss dresses with white socks and white patent leather shoes. I felt beautiful. I found out much later that my sister, being eight years older, felt like a big dork. Our parent’s escorted us into Frank’s hotel room.
It was sprawling and gorgeous with massive windows that looked out far and long across the sparkling Miami Beach shoreline. He picked me up in his arms and carried me around. He looked me in the eyes and said “Hi doll.”
He kissed me and nibbled on my leg. I can’t say right then I knew it was an unforgettable moment, but I did know it felt big and crazy and important. I remember feeling the exact spots where he nibbled and kissed my leg long after we left his room. Like it radiated. And to this day, I still remember those blue eyes looking into mine.
If I were just a little bit older I would have swooned for sure. I do believe that sweet crazy moment would set up many years of men falling short of my fleeting time with Sinatra..and many more until I found my own “Chairman of the Board.”
Over the years, I would continue to tell people about Frank and his nibbles, long after I was cued by my parents. And at some point, I probably wasn’t as cute as the tiny little girl who had a problem with her L’s proclaiming “Frank Sinatra bit me on my weg.” But I told people just the same.
Frank Sinatra’s music was always playing in our house. I still have the stack of Sinatra albums put aside for my father, each one with “Andy” on the back, labeled to make sure he and the rest of Sinatra’s entourage had one right from the record label before release.
My parents played other music, mostly Italian singers whose songs and lyrics I still sing today, but it was Frank’s music that moved me the most.
As a child, I created a full theatrical rendition of Frank’s song “That’s Life” that I would perform for anyone who would listen. I also remember not being too fond of the songs sung in our Catholic church and couldn’t understand why Frank’s music wasn’t sung instead.
One time, in pure frustration, I stood up in the pew and at the top of my lungs yelled “Shut up everybody” and started singing “The Shadow of Your Smile.” The priest was not amused.
