Lady Blue Eyes_ My Life With Frank - Barbara Sinatra [150]
Soon afterward, he told his friend Larry King that he’d never sing again in public. “Those days are just gone,” he added. “But I’m very, very happy.”
A few days after our twentieth wedding anniversary, in July 1996, Frank and I renewed our wedding vows at Our Lady of Malibu Catholic Church. It was a beautiful day. The traditional Catholic ceremony was attended by Bobby, Steve and Eydie, Peggy Lee, Frank Jr., and many others.
Repeating our marriage vows again seemed to take on even greater significance at that time of our lives and proved to be a deeply emotional experience for us both. In front of a handpicked group of friends, we repeated the sacred words we’d said to each other three times already—in Palm Springs, Florida, and New York—and promised once more to love and cherish each other “till death us do part.”
Twenty-four years after we’d first started dating, we were still together, still in love. We had defied all the critics; we’d lost money for those foolish enough to gamble on us not staying together more than a few months. We’d risen above all the attempts of those who tried to break us up. Ours was a deep and lasting love, full of trust and loyalty, and not just on my part. Frank had been hit on by just about every glamorous star in the world but not only had he married me, he’d stuck with me for all those years. This was a man who was perfectly capable of leaving if he grew bored, but he’d stayed—and so had I. Was it easy? Not always. Frank could be quite a handful. Was it calm? Rarely. I never knew what drama each day would bring. But was it fun? Oh yes; a thousand times yes. And romantic too. As I’d promised myself as a restless tomboy back in sleepy little Bosworth, I would never, ever be bored.
After the ceremony, we threw a party for seventy guests in the yard behind our Malibu beach house—the venue of many a memorable Sinatra Summer Pasta Party. We served an Italian dinner, of course, and during the toasts Frank announced gamely, “We’re going to do it again in twenty years!” As friends and family stood or sat around in the dunes, Bob Newhart and Don Rickles gave speeches and R. J. Wagner made the toast. An old friend from Vegas, the singer Frankie Randall, stood up and announced that he’d “brought something to the party.” As he summoned us to stand by the piano, he performed a song he’d written for our anniversary called “Twenty Years Ago Today.” He claimed it was based on Frank’s words to me over the many years he’d known us. It was so touching that we had copies of the song made and sent to our friends, and Frankie still performs it for me each time I see him. It goes
It was twenty years ago today that you said you loved me in every single way.
It seems like only yesterday but it was twenty years ago today.
When I first saw you I knew one day I’d make you mine
My life’s valentine; until the end of time.
I’ve loved caring for you knowing you were by my side.
You were a special gift when you became my bride.
Looking back at all we’ve shared together, day by day
Expecting the unexpected in everything I’d say
You lovingly adjusted to my ups and downs in life
I’ve treasured you through all these years
As my lover and my wife …
Twenty years from now as I look at you and smile
I’ll kiss you and remind you that it’s all been worthwhile.
One thing I’ve learned from you is to cherish what we have
And so I’ll live each moment as if it were our last.
Even though we were still so happy together, there was no longer any escaping the fact that Frank was getting old. He never lost his humor about it, though, and he wasn’t ready to give up just yet. The person who’d defied the odds from his near fatal birth and lived every day since as if it was his last was not going to go gently into that good night. For his eighty-first birthday, when someone asked him what he wanted, he replied, “Another birthday?”
Once Frank was no longer pushing himself so hard with