The dreams, aspirations and affinities of youth are often left behind for the pragmatism of adulthood.

When I was in ninth grade, I affirmed my goals and interests in an interview with the Hilltopper, the student newspaper of Keith Junior High School. In the interview, I said I wanted to become a German teacher, my favorite food was hoagies and my favorite thing to read was Mad magazine.

I never became a German teacher, hoagies are no longer on my menu, and Mad magazine hasn’t been on my reading list in decades.

However, my favorite song then and now has never changed. In fact, I may appreciate it more than ever. And it appears that I am not alone; the song ranks No. 1 with the most plays on radio and television in the United States, edging out the Beatles’ “Yesterday.” The Righteous Brothers’ 1965 song “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin'” is a beautifully crafted ballad sung by the phenomenal duo of baritone Bill Medley and the late, great tenor Bobby Hatfield.

I loved the blue-eyed soul sounds of The Righteous Brothers. Their melodic harmonies never let me down. That music could have played as the soundtrack of my youth. Moreover, since I became a baritone while in elementary school, Medley’s soulfully expressive vocals led me to idolize and try to emulate his sound.

In concert

As a busy father of five children, I never thought the opportunity would evolve for me to see The Righteous Brothers in concert. I had to stay close to home, and the duo performed outside Altoona. I was beyond ecstatic when a friend relinquished his seats to me, giving me the opportunity to see the guys in Indiana, Pa., in October 2001. By my biased assessment, they were beyond great, and I was so grateful to have the experience. Fortunately, they performed in State College in March 2003, and I was again able to savor the sounds of music royalty prior to Bobby Hatfield’s death eight months later.

But the music did not end there. Medley’s quest to create beautiful memories and entertain audiences would continue. In 2014, he performed on the campus of Montgomery College in Rockville, Md. I made the three-and-a-half-hour trip with my wife. When we reached the parking lot, I was shocked to see only a few cars in the parking lot.

Surely Medley had not lost his audience. Did I have the wrong day?

Neither premise was correct. Medley was ill and the concert had been cancelled. Undaunted, I drove back to Altoona and waited with great anticipation for the rescheduled performance three months later. I had phenomenal seats and a smile on my face, according to my wife, throughout his stellar performance. I could not believe that finally I could experience a musical legend’s performance a few feet away from me. His voice, stage presence and interaction with the audience was beyond impressive. Forget the fact that he was past the age of full retirement as defined by the Social Security Administration. After his performance, Medley had one more surprise in store for the audience; he told his eager fans that he would be in the lobby to sign autographs and take photos. Of course, I got a photo with him, which I cherish.

Interviewing an idol

When I approached the Mirror about interviewing Bill Medley for an article, I figured my request would be met with hesitation or a flat-out “no.” As the weeks passed, I accepted the fact that maybe they did not think it was remotely reasonable and that I should stick to my monthly “Fitness Track” columns. And when I opened the email giving me the “green light” to interview Medley, I had a mild panic attack. I didn’t have any idea how a small-town guy from Altoona, with no celebrity contacts, was going to pull this off. Phone calls, back-and-forth emails and a very kind road manager provided me with the resources to conduct this interview.

On the day that I was supposed to interview Medley, I had voraciously prepared for the interaction like a college student cramming for an exam. I read his book, “The Time of My Life: A Righteous Brothers’ Memoir,” prepared my questions and set up no less than three audio recorders — in the event that technology would fail me. Two hours before the interview, I received an email informing me that the interview could not take place that day and would have to be moved to the next day.

The next day, I checked and rechecked my email throughout the day, anticipating a rescheduling or cancellation. Five minutes before, I made sure the number I was given was accurate and then pressed the telephone icon on my fully charged iPhone. After three rings, I heard a voice and said in my deepest, Bill Medley-wannabe voice, “Hello, this is George Kattouf from Altoona, Pennsylvania.” Then I heard a disheartening click. A disconnected phone and heart all in one. I rechecked the phone number; it was correct, so what now? As I debated what to do next, my phone lit up with Bill Medley’s name. “I am sorry. This phone has been acting up,” said Medley when I answered. And with that, my dream became a reality.

When I suggested the concept of retirement at his current age of 77, Medley was quick to correct me.

“Seventy-six — give me a break!” he said. I nervously apologized for my error, and he was quick to laugh it off. “That’s all right. In September, I’ll be 77.”

He went on to explain why he continues to perform:

“There’s obviously something about it that I love. I mean, I’m a one-trick pony; you know, I love singing. I love performing. I love that I’m in a business that is so kind of free. (I’m) able to bring a lot of these songs to people every night, and they’re reliving their memories. I don’t have a job. This isn’t a job. Singing is a privilege for me. It’s a gift. God gives you the gift, and your gift to God is what you do with it. As long as I can go on stage and make people happy and relive these great memories.”

A down-to-earth guy

Many celebrities, business associates, friends and family who contributed to “The Time of My Life” described Medley as honest, down-to-earth and a great guy who has achieved success but has never let it go to his head. When asked how Medley describes himself, he’s quick to respond.

“As a pretty good con artist,” he joked. “You know, man, life — it’s too tough and too tricky and everything else to try and make it into something that it isn’t. I’m Bill Medley. I happen to sing. I’ve been very, very fortunate, very blessed and I don’t feel that I’m anything special. Both Bobby (Hatfield) and I, we never felt that. Bobby and I always felt like we were the two lead singers in a band.”

Medley’s humility and feelings of blessedness may have a great deal to do with his youth. In his memoir, Medley describes his relationship with his father as rocky at best.

Evening meals were often the setting for Medley being disciplined with a belt. To this day, Medley doesn’t like to eat dinner because of that volatility. He developed twitches while in elementary school and later developed a tough-guy approach to hide his insecurities. Though surrounded by friends, Medley was assessed as being a very lonely guy with social anxiety.

“I was in high school and church choirs, but that was about it. All my friends knew I was a singer because when they would play the radio, I would sing along with Little Richard or Elvis or this and that, and they said, ‘Man, you sound just like those guys. You ought to do something.’ But I was way too scared, too insecure.”

That anxiety impacted Medley’s first experience auditioning for a talent show. One of his buddies from Orange County, Calif., Johnny Mohler, prodded him to go to the audition at the Paramount Theatre in Los Angeles.

“The guy said, ‘OK, what are you going to sing?’ And I think, oddly enough, I was going to do an Elvis Presley song.” Here, Medley pauses to sing the first few bars of “Love Me” by Elvis. “And he said, ‘OK, go ahead.’ And, man, I tell you, nothing came out — just nothing.”

Thankfully, that setback did not dissuade Medley. Instead of quitting, he devoted himself to playing his mother’s piano for hours every day, learning to play and sing Little Richard and Fats Domino and drawing upon the influence of Ray Charles and other blues artists.

A friend, Don Fiduccia, played rhythm guitar and asked Medley to sing a song he had written.

Medley, who had dropped out of high school and briefly attended Bartmore Beauty College to become a hairdresser, now had something that sparked his passion and purpose: music.

Starting a band

Fiduccia and Medley expanded to become a five-member band who called themselves the Paramours. Bobby Hatfield, who was a member of a group called the Variations, came to see the Paramours perform and eventually joined the group. Both Medley and Hatfield shared a love of rhythm and blues artists and their music.

“One of the best things that ever happened to me is Bobby Hatfield and I were put together for a band in 1962, and we just started singing rhythm and blues together and recorded a song called ‘Little Latin Lupe Lu,’ and we haven’t looked back,” said Medley.

Once their talents merged, musical history would soon be written. Medley had written “Little Latin Lupe Lu” about a girl he met in beauty school.

The duo recorded it and needed a name for their collaboration. When African-American marines from the El Toro Marine Corps base would attend their Paramour gigs, they would often yell, “Righteous, brother!” which was a high compliment. It was Hatfield who suggested the name The Righteous Brothers. That West Coast regional hit would launch their successful careers.

“I had a real good drive, and I still do. I didn’t know where I was driving to; I was just driving. I wanted to be out there in the street, and good things happened,” Medley said.

Opened for the Beatles

The Righteous Brothers would go on to open for the Beatles on their first American tour in 1964 and the Rolling Stones in 1965.

They left the Beatles tour to perform on a weekly ABC musical program called Shindig. They also released a string of hits, including “You’ve Lost That Lovin Feelin,'” and (“You’re My) Soul and Inspiration.”

The duo also became the first rock-and-roll singers to perform regularly at Sands Hotel and Casino. They played in the lounge while vocal legend Frank Sinatra played the “big room” and offered his expertise for voice preservation.

“Sinatra was there at the Sands, because he was ‘The Guy’ and everybody wanted to be around him. Sinatra asked how our voices were doing and, you know, we’re out in the desert doing three shows a night, yelling our brains out. I just told Frank, ‘I’m having a lot of trouble.’ He said, ‘How’s your reed, kid?’ You know, like a saxophone reed — such a big-band guy — and I said, ‘Not good.'”

Sinatra then went through a 45-minute monologue of what Medley and Hatfield should and shouldn’t do.

“He said, ‘I want to see you in the health club tomorrow at 5 o’clock,’ and then he just walked us through everything and, sure enough, 90 percent of what was wrong with our voices was because it was so dry out there in the desert that you had to do everything you could to keep your throat moist — some moisture on your cord,” explained Medley, adding that Sinatra used eucalyptus on the rocks in the sauna/steam room to aid his vocal chords. The only negative side effect, Medley said, was the lingering smell of eucalyptus that lasted for months.

Another notable talent befriended Medley while they both performed at the Hilton International in Las Vegas.

Friends with Elvis

“I had the great pleasure and thrill of getting to know Elvis Presley very, very, very well because we had, gee, I don’t know, a couple of hundred conversations, just him and me, about 15 minutes before his show,” said Medley. “I was working the same hotel …, and he would call and ask me to come down to the dressing room, and I would. It would be just him, me and his hairdresser. We got so comfortable with each other that he just became a real good friend. So, that was cool, you know, to get to know Elvis — not Elvis Presley, but Elvis.”

Though The Righteous Brothers would have a great run of success, it came to an end in 1968 because of professional and personal differences among the duo. Medley now had to develop a solo performing act.

His professional and personal life has elicited remarkable highs and very challenging lows. The demands of a solo career and years of pouring out his soulful voice and heart almost became a showstopper.

In 1974, two physicians gave Medley a grave pronouncement: his vocal chords were shot and he would never be able to sing again. This caused him to question himself and God. According to his memoirs, Medley went out on Balboa Pier in Orange County. Sobbing, he said to God, “Why do this to me? Why did you give this to me and take it away? Why did you do that? Please, please, you got to help me.”

In his memoir, Medley concedes to having a poor self-image relative to his work ethic and what he defined as “luck” in becoming a successful music artist at an early age.

“Early in my career, before and during ‘Lovin’ Feelin” and all that stuff — the ’60s — I really felt (that) because I had quit school when I was 16, that I was very, very lucky and probably very lazy, (and) not very smart because I didn’t go to school. So, I had myself convinced I was pretty much a piece of crap. I think God just said, ‘I’m going to show you how hard you will work and how important this is to you and how smart you’re going to be about this.’ He just yanked my voice right out of my throat,” Medley said.

A very special man would intercede at one of the lowest times Medley’s life.

“I ran into Jack Coleman, who is a dear friend of mine and high school choir teacher. He just took special interest in me because I think he saw a troubled kid. I had quit school when I was 16, and I think he was just one of those teachers that went a step beyond to try and help a student, which I admire a lot. I ran into him — he was now teaching, giving voice lessons — and I told him I had lost my voice. He said, ‘I think I can fix that.’ I said, ‘No, Jack, I was told by the two biggest vocal coaches in LA that I was done.’ He said, ‘Well, let’s try it.’ When I say he’s the only man in the world — the only person in the world that I would’ve done this with, (it) is no exaggeration. He’s the only guy I would say, ‘Well, OK.’ But I did and started taking two lessons a day, five days a week and, sure enough, slowly but surely, (my voice) came back.”

Coleman, who Medley describes as a beautiful man and Christian, would normally charge his students $15 per hour, would not take any fees from Medley. He told Medley that a week prior to their encounter, God had told Coleman to help him.

The Righteous Brothers got back together in the mid-’70s and scored with a top-10 hit, “Rock and Roll Heaven.” After his former wife, Karen, was murdered at her home in 1976, Medley left the duo to raise his 10-year-old son, Darrin. (The murder case was solved this year using DNA evidence, which confirmed the killer died in a shootout with police in 1982.)

Movie ties

The Righteous Brothers would eventually reunite, and their music would have a significant part of two major films: “Top Gun” (1986) showcased “Lovin’ Feelin,'” and “Ghost” (1990) featured “Unchained Melody,” sung by Hatfield and produced by Medley. Medley and Jennifer Warnes sang the “Time of My Life,” which was featured in “Dirty Dancing” (1987). Thankfully, Hatfield would live to be honored with Medley as inductees in the 2003 Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. They were presented by Billy Joel, who also wrote the foreword to Medley’s memoir.

With all Medley has achieved in his life, he no longer sees what he does as a career.

“When people say, ‘What are you doing in your career?’ I don’t really feel I have a career anymore. I think a career is where you’re trying to get to the higher ring, and I’m not trying to do that. I did what I did. I’ve done what I’ve done. I’m going to do what I’m going to do. So, I’m real comfortable in the fact that I know 90 percent of what I do is bring memories to the audience, and I am more than thrilled to death to do that.”

Some of those memories created by the music have been and continue to be expressed by veterans.

“I can remember several veterans coming up to Bobby and I, and it was one of the things that we were probably most proud of — that our music was over there in Vietnam. We were a voice from home, and I can just remember several times the guys saying, ‘Boy, you know, when we were being attacked or we were attacking somebody, we would all sing, ‘You’re My Soul and Inspiration’ and go into battle. I mean, it’s pretty amazing to have these wonderful veterans come up, maybe in a wheelchair with no legs, thanking you and giving you a little pin that they’ve had. If that’s all our music ever did, it would once again be a blessing,” Medley said.

When asked if he thought there would ever be a return to the soulful Righteous Brothers’ music — or if it had never left the stage — Medley was stumped.

“Boy that’s a good question, and I don’t have a clue, man. I have a daughter (McKenna) that sings at our show. She does “Time of My Life” with me from “Dirty Dancing.” I don’t even know what to tell her. This is going to make me sound like a real old man. I think there was a moment in country music, and maybe still is, where they’re leaning on the emotional edge, you know. I think pop music is just losing a lot of the heart and soul of the music, because we’re not talking about love, falling in love, falling out of love, getting hurt. It doesn’t seem that we’re getting enough of that,” Medley explained.

A Righteous return

There had been a great deal of prodding from fans and close friends to keep the Righteous Brothers’ music alive. Medley considered the idea of reforming the Righteous Brothers but wanted to be certain he selected someone who was worthy. He finally found that worth in a vocalist and friend from his days performing in Branson, Missouri: Bucky Heard.

“Bucky Heard had been a friend of mine since ’06. I had seen Bucky at a wedding, and he said, ‘Well, I would love for you to come and hear what I’m doing.’ He was doing a show where he was doing a lot of Journey songs, and boy, I went in to see him and it just knocked me out, and I said, ‘Man, if you can do Steve Perry, there’s a real good shot you can do Bobby Hatfield.’ I pulled him on stage a couple of times with me, and the audience just loved him. He’s an extremely normal guy, and that’s what I wanted,” Medley said.

As a newly-formed duo, The Righteous Brothers will perform two shows in Pennsylvania this summer: Saturday in Bethlehem and Sunday in Lancaster. I will have the honor and privilege of attending the Lancaster performance. Bill, if you decide to become a trio for one song, just signal me; I will be in the front row and have been practicing for more than 50 years.

I knew Bill Medley was a phenomenal vocal and performance talent. What I didn’t know is how kind, honest and spiritual he would be during the interview. Often, the idols of youth are the letdowns of adulthood. Thankfully, my respect for him has increased and not wavered — I had the time of my life.