67!

 

Looks like I hit 67!
Never thought I'd be this old.
But my mind still works, I still have my quirks,
And my body isn't cold!

I think I've been extended!
Might see another year.
And if thats true, I'll look for you,
here again next year!

Written just 2 weeks before leaving Hospice after spending the entire summer in the hospital. I was 89 pounds upon release. Within weeks I had gained 50 pounds. 

Happy Birthday Uncle "I"

Today, Irving Henkin, my great Uncle, would be 123 years old. But he took the place of 2 absent grandfathers, so I credit him with 2 lifetimes. I have never been to his grave, and though I light the Yahrzeit for him each year, to me it's more akin to a birthday candle. In my heart he's never really passed and I speak with him often.  Here is a bit about him from something i wrote in 2009.

Issac was later known as Irving - due to the tall tales he told we sometimes called him Uncle “Lie”- but he was always Uncle “I” as far as I was concerned. 

He was born, alternately, depending upon whom you asked, in Vineland New Jersey, Philadelphia, or New York City. Everyone agrees that it was on Aug 15th- but the year varies- 1893, 1895 or 1898 - take your pick. He was old enough to collect Social Security when I was 5 but worked until a year before he died in 1975. And he was too young to serve in World War I- registering in August of 1918, just 3 months before the Armistice. He probably was trying to avoid detection as an illegal for fear of being sent back to the "old" country. His father had crossed the ocean to escape Europe and Irving had no desire to retrace “Pops” steps – he didn’t want to go back - as a deportee or a soldier. 

He apparently worked for the American Railway Express Co and later went into the Garment Industry as a buyer of furs. He used to bring me samples and to this day I can tell real from fake chinchilla, mink, sable, rabbit and even lamb. We had raccoon tails by the armload and attached them to the handlebars of our bikes and the backs of our hats, and even flew one from the antenna of the old Plymouth. 

When I was younger, he would take me, and later, when I was older, I would meet him at the furriers where he worked on 7th Ave in the Garment District. The cutters, the tailors and sewing operators all treated me royally and I was fascinated by this aspect of my Uncles life. 

Although he was already 60 when I was born, for 20 years he took me every Sunday to the beach in the summer, movies in the winter, and ice cream sodas and walks on Friday nights. He always regaled me with the stories of all the people he had met in his business as a furrier and how everyone knew him all over the city. 

The Friday night walks were the most special times I spent with Uncle “I”. In spite of his age he never failed to make that 1 hour trip each way to watch the news, eat dinner and "talk" a walk with me. By "talk" a walk- I mean that we would talk and walk. We would go to the candy store on Kings Hwy and 15th Street and he would buy me an ice cream soda and afterwards give me a Standing Liberty or Benjamin Franklin half dollar. And when "magic time" was done I would walk him around the corner to the Quentin Road entrance of the BMT for his 1 hour train ride back to Manhattan. They said he had no where to go, but I know better- he came to see me. 

He took me to baseball games at the Polo Grounds, Shea Stadium, Yankee Stadium, to the circus at the Old Madison Square Garden, and to Radio City Music Hall for the Christmas Show. He was Jewish to the core, but the blue lit Nativity scene, complete with real Camels on stage - made him weep from the majesty of it. He knew every doorman, every usher, and every cabbie. We would go to the Stage Delicatessen on 7th Avenue and he knew all the comedians, actors and characters there, including the owner, Max. 

We would miss parts of first acts trying to get to our seats as he stopped to acknowledge greeting after greeting, mostly from the people that worked in the places we visited, but sometimes people in the audience would call out to him, as if they desired his recognition, as well as to just say hello. He was a shy and gentle man, yet he seemed well liked and commanded some degree of affection and respect wherever we went. 

He would go to Las Vegas every year to feed the slots and bring home the old solid silver Morgan Dollars from the 1880’s and the Peace Dollars from the early 1930’s. He never won, but he’d save those last 2 dollars for my brother and I. 

Occasionally, he would stay over, especially if a game had gone into extra innings or overtime, depending on the season. He would sleep in my bed and I would take a folding cot in between my bed and my brothers. I would cover it with blankets and sheets and get underneath, pretending that this was my submarine. When I emerged I was always confronted by the sight of his teeth in a glass on my desk. 

I still recall how, at least once every summer at Rockaway Beach, he would duck into a bar for a beer to catch the game and a peek at the baseball score. He didn’t smoke or drink but he would order a beer and bum a cigarette. He’d smoke it without inhaling, enjoying a moment of male camaraderie. It always seemed so mysterious to me, this bachelor world he lived in- hotels and restaurants. It was glamorous on the one hand, and lonely on the other. 

If I characterize this part of Irving’s’ life as mysterious, it is probably because I never once went up to his hotel room. I suppose he considered it improper or ill advised to take a child up to his room with him. But he gave the most important gift of all to me. His time.

Happy Birthday Mom (Ruth Marcus Williams) 1929-1984

Today my Mom would have been 86 years old. If she were still alive I might not be telling you that, as she was a bit vain about her age. She was over a year older than my Dad and I think she always wished it were the other way around. Go figure.

This photo is from her childhood album and was taken on the roof at 3619 Bedford Avenue. That’s the big red building on the NE corner of Bedford and Kings Highway. She was 14 years old. After she married my Dad in 1950 they lived there in apartment 3-C with my Grandmother Marcus and her brother Uncle Irving and their Russian born father "Max." A woman named Mary, and eventually her husband Mack, also lived there. Mary was the Irish woman who raised my Mom during the 1930's and became a lifelong friend of my Grandmother's.When Mary and Mack moved to California in the late 1950’s, she went with them. My Uncle always said that they took the Dodgers with them.

This picture always fascinates me because it shows how much more mature people seemed to be "back then". Of course the country had just been through the Great Depression, and this photo was taken in the middle of the Second World War which followed it. That might account for part of it. As a matter of fact, that’s my Uncle Walter’s army cap she’s holding. He was home on leave at the time after basic training.

Happy Birthday Mom!

You would have been confused by much of what is happening these days, but also thrilled with some of the other things. Like blogs. You would have had one; and a Facebook page. Those long distance phone calls from faraway places would never have been necessary. But I wouldn’t have missed them for the world. They are how we bridged our divide. Those calls are why when I miss you I am able to smile. They are why I’m smiling now...

Love always,

Robert

Thoughts on Turning 59

Today is my birthday. 59 years have passed since I made my entrance; almost in a cab as my parents did not own a car at the time; and it has been a wonderful ride ever since. But at 59 you start to look back and wonder about what you have accomplished in the time allotted, and hopefully you don’t find yourself falling too short of the intended mark.

I’m fairly content with my life. I would have liked to work for a few more years, but that just wasn't in the cards. So, when I add it all up, I’m pretty satisfied. Here are two poems; one by Hartley Coleridge, kin to Samuel Taylor Coleridge; and the other by yours truly. I believe I have posted them here before. But, since it’s my birthday; and my blog; I get to post them again if I want to.

The first speaks of regret at not having lived up to your own expectations. The other speaks of being content with what you have done, even if it falls short of what others expect of you. Naturally, I identify more with the latter, and is probably why I wrote it in the first place.

“Long Time a Child” by Hartley Coleridge  (1759)

Long time a child, and still a child, when years

Had painted manhood on my cheek, was I, -

For yet I lived like one not born to die;

A thriftless prodigal of smiles and tears,

No hope I needed, and I knew no fears.

But sleep, though sweet, is only sleep, and waking,

I waked to sleep no more, at once o'ertaking

The vanguard of my age, with all arrears

Of duty on my back. Nor child, nor man,

Nor youth, nor sage, I find my head is gray,

For I have lost the race I never ran:

A rathe December blights my lagging May;

And still I am a child, though I be old,

Time is my debtor for the years untold.

“Could’ve” by Robert Williams

I could’ve been much more than I am,

A King, or a Prince, not just a mere man.

But I spent my life doing just all that I could,

to get through the years doing not what I should.

And so in the finish, the questions I’ll ask;

Alone late at night in mirror’s mask;

Are “What if I weren't the man that I see?”, and

“Who would I be now – If I weren't me?”

Happy Birthday Sue!

Today is Sue’s birthday. I wouldn't tell you how old she’s not- but she is a couple of week’s older than me; and wiser, too. This photo; which is one of my favorites; was taken in New York about a year after we met in Baltimore, where I was sitting for my Third Mates License and Sue was working for Social Security. We've been together ever since, much to my good fortune and a lapse of judgment on her part.

We met when both of us had just turned 29; and hopefully were old enough to know who we really wanted to spend the rest of our lives with. Sue, thanks for letting me be your husband. I was waiting for you to come along. I just never understood what took you so long.  

Happy Birthday Sue - you still light up my life...

Happy Birthday Mom!

This is my favorite picture of my mom, Ruth Marcus Williams, taken in the summer of 1934 when she was 5 years old. She is sitting in the back of 2020 East 29th Street in Brooklyn. Her parents had just divorced formally, after a 5 year separation. So she effectively grew up in a one parent household. She was always ahead of her time.

She was a talented woman, played piano and sang. Mostly Broadway show stuff. She was trained in voice and had planned on a career in the theater when she met my Dad, who was about to graduate Maritime High School and go to sea. Good thing they didn't, or else I wouldn't be writing this.

My Mom was sick, from the time I was 5 years old, until she died of the complications from pancreatic cancer 25 years later. I never really knew her before she was ill. I do have some warm recollections of her before she got sick, but they are clouded in the haze of early childhood. I remember being young enough to have a "sink" bath, that is, being washed in the kitchen sink rather than the tub, so I must have been about 3 or 4 years old. I can remember her calling out to my brother and I from the 4th floor window of our apartment on Bedford Avenue and Kings Highway, and even throwing down change wrapped in a paper towel for ice cream. I don't think anything can dislodge those memories from my mind.

I can also still recall her stripped dress and her dresser drawer full of kerchiefs. I know that I have printed this here before, but indulge me as I remember her with these lyrics, written several years ago while thinking about her at the piano; the beach; and just sitting on the sofa reading a book and being my Mom.

I can still see you there,

standing by the door.

Wearing your red kerchief and your coat.

And though I think I see your face

so clearly in my mind,

I know I'll never see you anymore.

I can still hear your voice

it's ringing in my head.

I can hear the words to every song.

Time's the perfect bandit,
it will steal your heart away.
It's robbed me just a little at a time.

And though I think I hear your voice,

So clearly in my mind,

I know I'll never hear it anymore.

Happy Birthday Mom. I still think of you as you were before all the illness. I know that's how you wanted it to be.

Happy Birthday George Washington!

Back when I was a kid we celebrated George Washington’s birthday as a separate holiday; as we did with Abraham Lincoln’s birthday. There was a special quality about having the day off in the middle of the week that is lacking in the combined holidays, resulting in the 3 day weekend we now refer to as President’s Day.

First off, a little bit of trivia. Washington was not born on the 22^nd of February 1732.  He was born on February 11, 1731, over one year earlier. In 1731 we were still using the old Annunciation Style calendar which was woefully outdated as compared to the science of astronomy. It wasn’t until 1752 that the British government switched over to the new Gregorian calendar under the provisions of the New Style Act of 1750. I actually learned this is in 5^th grade.

Calendars have changed many times throughout the history of the world. The earliest calendars were based upon observations of the moon, which was the closest and brightest thing visible to the ancients. The lunar calendar sufficed for thousands of years and served the basic purpose of marking time. Seasonally, there were adjustments necessary due to weather which affected the planting and harvesting of crops; then came the Sun.

When Copernicus proved that the earth revolved about the sun; and not the opposite; it was an upheaval in accepted logic. But this was the beginning point at which human beings came to redefine their understanding;  and methods of; chronicling the passing years.

The Gregorian calendar is the most widely used of calendars due to the fact that it is secular and scientific in nature. It’s interesting to note that this calendar is based upon Copernicus’ observations, as it was only a few decades removed from the Spanish Inquisition, during which the very teachings of Copernicus were banned by the Church. That the church even accepted a calendar based upon the sun as a fixed object, with no religious significance in the keeping of time, was a tremendous event.

The main advantage of the Gregorian calendar is that it keeps most of the world on the same schedule; a feat which became of increasing importance as the world seemingly “shrunk” with the advent of the Age of Exploration and Industrialization. For the most part though, the world’s leading religions; including the Roman Catholic Church; still use an older outdated calendar in calculating the dates of religious traditions and ceremonies.

For instance, the Roman Catholic Church relies on the insertion of a correction each year in determining the dates of Good Friday and Easter. It doesn’t always coincide with the actual history, as Good Friday and Easter often fall before the Jewish holiday of Passover, the events of which had to have occurred before the Crucifixion of Jesus. The Jewish calendar is still lunar based; and much like the Chinese Buddhist calendar, it can get confusing.

Pope Gregory XIII signed a Papal decree on February 24, 1582 adopting the new calendar in Europe. The other European nations followed within the next couple of centuries, with the practice reaching America in the early half of the 18^th Century, just in time for the birth of George Washington.

The switch from the Julian calendar to the Gregorian calendar may seem silly, as it is based upon only 11 minutes or so of difference in the time calculated for the earth to revolve about the sun. But over a period of time; centuries; this adds up considerably if not corrected. Something like 3 days in 400 years. When Gregory was Pope we had already slipped by 10 days since the Roman era. This made the spring equinox fall on the 11^th of the March instead of the 21^st, and it was still drifting further away from that fixed date; which had been set by the church centuries earlier. Since that date affected the timing of the Christian holidays, the Church decided to “fix” it.

There were 2 parts to the “fix”; the first being a change in the number of “leap years” observed every 4 centuries to 97 from 100. This was the idea of Aloysius Lilius, a Calabrian physician. While the shift from the lunar calendar to the solar based Julian calendar was a big step forward in keeping track of the passing years, the Gregorian calendar was an even further step in this direction.

There is much more involved in the history of the calendar which we use today as we further refine our time keeping methods with atomic clocks and “leap second” corrections. But, this is just a simplified account of how George Washington had his birthday changed by more than a year.

_______________________________

Hey,Rush Limbaugh! 

Rush Limbaugh is ashamed of America! Guess what? We're ashamed of Rush Limbaugh. The talk show host has, in the past, told all apologists for America to love it or leave it. He also promised to move to Canada if President O'Bama won the election in 2008. We're still waiting....

Happy Birthday to Me / Dinner at Sullivan's

Here is my “long form” original birth certificate, copied and notarized sometime on December 6, 1974, the last digit is not that clear, could be ’73, ’75, or ‘79. I know that I am not supposed to put something like this on here, but I have nothing valuable to steal; being retired early on Disability; so I figured I’d put it up as an example of the details which used to be included in a standard Certificate of Birth. These old documents; like myself; contain bits and pieces of our past, which is what makes their preservation so important.

It’s interesting to see that my Dad was working as a draftsman for the Austin Company; they were working on cooling systems for jet aircraft. The company had a contract with the Air Force at the time, before the industry moved out West. This was before the 2 recessions of the Eisenhower Administrations, which was the only time I remember my Dad being unemployed. I was about 3, going on 4 at that time. Notice that there is no space provided for what the mother’s occupation might have been; just the implication that she was the mother.

Also of interest is the recording of the parent’s race. I don’t know if that is done anymore; or even whether that is legal; although I think it is pertinent. When tracing back the family history, the more facts available, the better. But, it’s a changing world.

It strikes me odd that they did not ask about the religion of the child. They must have assumed that; being born in a Catholic hospital; I must be Catholic. "Oy!", if they only knew. My parents were what were then referred to as a “mixed” marriage; that is, they were of different faiths. At a time when it was considered taboo for a Protestant to marry a Baptist; or for a Presbyterian to contemplate wedding an Episcopalian; they were breaking new ground. Only recently did I learn, from Aunt Gloria, that my parents were wed in a temple rather than a church. There are no photos that I have ever seen of the wedding ceremony; only photos taken in my Grandmother Marcus’ apartment, for the reception. In my mind, I had always assumed they had a Civil Ceremony in order to keep the peace within the family. Hey, live and learn.

Sue and I celebrated early this year, opting for dinner at Sullivan’s, the best restaurant in Charlotte, the other night. Sue had a wonderful steak, while I chose the Sea-bass.  We were treated royally; as is the “norm” for Sullivan’s; when you leave the restaurant, you always feel satisfied, with the food as well as the service. Our waiter, Corey, along with all the staff, made us feel “special”, in the way that only true professionals can. Thanks! We’ll see you again soon.

So, I’m 58, and feel like I’m going on 70. But my heart and mind are still going strong. I don’t enjoy the physical aspects of getting older; there’s not much I can do about that. However, with each passing year I learn something new about myself; as well as the people around me. Some things; even people; are good; and some are bad. I think that’s the most valuable lesson I have learned in my lifetime; even about myself. And, at 58 years old, I can live with that.

"I'm a Sensitive Man" by Nick Lowe (2012)

Nick Lowe has been a force in rock and roll for almost 4 decades now. His solo efforts are legendary, and his all too short collaboration with Dave Edmunds in the early 1980’s supergroup  “Rockpile” was almost the apex of both of  their respective careers. But time has a way with performers like Nick Lowe; who used to be son in law to Johnny Cash, and even had the old man record one of his darker hits, “The Beast In Me” for his Rick Rubin albums; has matured like fine wine.  He has a certain elegance about him which draws you into the things, and people, about whom he sings.

His aptly named new album, “The Old Magic , released last September to much deserved acclaim, is filled with the type of music we have come to expect of Nick Lowe.  Take “I’m a Sensitive Man” as an example. He’s through playing games; and though he recognizes the value of his “kinetic” relationship with his significant other; he clearly wants to know what she really wants. It would be so much simpler that way. And he delivers the message with self-deprecating humor, which only adds to the punch.

Some of the other songs on the album, such as “Somebody Cares for Me”, are really upbeat celebrations of where Mr. Lowe is in his life right now; centered on being thankful for having made the journey intact, and with something to show for it.

The there is the laid back, and introspective track, “Shame on the Rain”; which examines the question of just who is to blame for Mr. Lowe’s melancholy; fixing the rain with the blame of his further persecution. It is a wonderful song.

The reason I’m telling you about this artist, whom I have followed for almost 35 years now, is that Sue and I have tickets for his Charlotte show in October.  It’s our birthday present to one another.  Sue is new to Mr. Lowe as a performer, having just recently heard him on NPR plugging the new album. And seeing him up close in a small venue like Charlotte’s McGlohon Theater is an added plus. It is a warm and intimate place for both the audience and the artist. We’re both looking forward to a great show from this talented singer/songwriter.

Looking Back and Moving Forward

Sue and I took a trip up to New York for 3 days to say hello to my old friend Iona and her husband Dave. They live on the West Coast, so the trip was a treat for them, as well as Sue and I. We didn't do a whole lot, just walked around the old neighborhood on Kings Highway, passed by our old Junior High School and the apartments where we used to live. I haven't been back to Brooklyn in almost 10 years, so I really needed to "feel" the energy of the Big Apple. And it's still there, alive and kicking, filled with all kinds of people trying to make a buck, or a name, for themselves. The subway still had musicians playing in many of the cars, and some were really good!

Iona and I went to Juinor High together, only a few short years ago. I had never met David before. For me, it was instant friendship. This guy does it all, and with style! You should have seen him zipping in, and out, of traffic in the city all the way to Brooklyn and back. He's from the West Coast and navigated the streets of my old home town like a native.

New York is nothing without walking across the Brooklyn Bridge, so we did that on an overcast, and slightly rainy day. The bridge is undergoing a new paint job, but the majesty of the structure, along with the ingenuity of the concept of suspension bridges in general, always make this a wonderful thing to do in New York. And walking across with an old friend makes it even more special. The twin towers may be gone, but that indefineable spirit which makes New York the great place that it is, can never be destroyed. It goes on and on...

And what visit to New York would be complete without a visit to Little Italy? We happened to be there for the annual Feast of St Gennaro, and aside from the food there was this wonderfully colorful procession. This is the same procession depicted in the film "Mean Streets" with a very young Robert DeNiro. I used to go to this procession with my friends when I was young, and going back again, by chance, was really a bonus round for me. The Feast of San Gennaro is known for its food, and the procession itself, which heralds in an 11-day festival which honors the official "Saint Day", September 19th, when a celebratory Mass is held in the Most Precious Blood Church, followed by the religious procession in which the Statue of San Gennaro is carried from its permanent home in the church through the streets of Little Italy.

We didn't do all that much, it was a short 3 day visit, but the City of New York is still alive and well. The sights, smells and colors, along with a new crop of immigrants, make any visit to New York the unique treat that it always has been, and always will be.

Happy Valentine's Day - and a Birthday, too!

Happy Valentine's Day to my wife of 24 years, Sue. Without her I would walk into walls, sleep in theaters, and sometimes find myself face down in my dinner. Well, maybe I still do, but not quite as often as I would without her in my life. We still annoy one another in small ways, as most married couples do, but we also still enjoy one another. And that is the secret of being in love.

We had a rough beginning, and probably didn't get it right for the first few years, maybe we still don't. But we have always clung to one another on this rocky ride we all call life. We have had a daughter together, raised two sons, and lived to tell the tale. And that's no small feat! So, Happy Valentine's Day, Sue, you will always be my partner in life, even if I am a grouch...

And that brings me to my daughter, Sarah. Here I am, holding her at about 3AM in the morning on Valentine's Day 1987, which just so happens to be her birthday. We tend to do things around holiday times. We were married on the Fourth of July, had Sarah on Valentine's Day, and she got married on Halloween. Go figure... But she has bought much joy into our lives, and so I just wanted to wish her a Happy 24th birthday. As I told her last night, "May you never lose direction, and all your horizons lay just beyond your reach. In that way you will always strive to be more." We now return to our regular broadcast.

Happy Birthday Favorite Aunt Gloria

Today is my favorite Aunt Gloria's birthday. If age is defined in years, then youth must be defined in the joy of living. And that makes Aunt Gloria one of the youngest people I know! She has always been around, providing the laughter when everyone else is crying. Smiling, while everyone else is busy being blue. She helped me put the first worm on my fishing hook when I was 3 years old. That's her in the photo, standing tall, leading the pack of excited kids on their way to catch Moby Dick. I'm the little guy in front, with my hands in my pockets. Happy Birthday Aunt Gloria, and many more to come. With love from one of your favorite nephews.

Today Is My Birthday - No Post Today

I'm 56 years young, or old, today. Ask me after 12 noon and I'll have a better assessment of it by then. It takes me a little longer to get started these days, but I believe some of the old spark is still alive inside of me.

I'm going to take the day off and lay around a bit... Skip making any profound judgements and just enjoy being 56. Truly, there were times when I never thought I'd make it this far!

So, as last year, from all of me to all of you, Happy Birthday! See you tomorrow, and thanks for stopping by. It means a lot to me that you do.

Havens and Domingo - The Cosmos at Work

Each morning when I wake up I grab my morning paper and scan the headlines. Then I look inside the front page at “This Day In History”, to gain context I suppose. And then I look at "Today’s Birthdays", which always holds a surprise of one sort or another.

For instance, last year when Olivia De Havillandturned 94, I hadn’t even realized she was still alive! So,  I like to keep track. But every now and then I look and see two people born on the same day, same year and doing the same thing as one another all their lives. And it always strikes me as odd.

Was there something in the air that January day in Brooklyn when Richie Havens was born in 1941? And what was going on in Madrid, Spain that same day when Placido Domingo made his entrance into the world?

Richie Havens was one of 9 children. From an early age he began singing on street corners in “Doo Wop” groups and by 1957 was with The McCrea Gospel Singers.

His first influences were Nina Simone and then Dino Valenti. As he began to frequent Greenwich Village he started doing portraits and eventually began singing in the coffee houses that were the mainstay of the Village in the late 1950’s. By the time 1960 rolled around he was in demand on most college campuses as a singer from coast to coast.

Meantime, in Madrid, Placido Domingo was on a parallel path. By age 7 he was studying and performing with his parents, who were Zarzuela singers in Mexico City. He was a busy little man, also studying piano with Manuel Barajas and taking voice lessons at the National Conservatory.

Making his debut as Borsa in Rigoletto at about the same time that Richie Havens was appearing for the first time in New York- these two would continue on parallel courses that continue to this day.

By 1966 both were established in their respective careers, although they would not reach their respective peaks for a few more years.

In 1966 Havens was appearing at The Newport Folk Festival and Domingo was appearing in New York as Pinkerton in Madam Butterfly with the New York City Opera. When 1968 rolled around Havens was appearing at Monterey Pop while Domingo made his debut with the Metropolitan Opera in New York.

The big year for both came in 1969, when Havens opened Woodstock and cemented his place in Rock and Roll History, just as Domingo was joining Milan’s La Scala and London’s Covent Garden Opera Company's. From this point on both would be recognized as leading talents in their respective genres. Both would go on to do Television and Movie appearances as well as pursue Cultural and Philanthropic goals.

I have no conclusions; and maybe it’s all just a meaningless coincidence. But 2 of the world’s most passionate singers share more than just great voices and a love for music. They share a birthday.