Sullivan knows he had a scar on his chin from the doctor's forceps during delivery and he suffered a punctured ear drum which kept him out of the war. In the blue room, where Sullivan goes to relax at the end of a long day with a little Sinatra, a cup of tea and maybe some karaoke, he keeps the other Frank memorabilia. Some are collector's items, like the vinyl recordings. Others are offbeat, like a statue of The Voice standing in front of a New York City skyline which sings, well, you know what it sings. There are decorative plates and plates that play Sinatra songs, a Sinatra baseball hat, seven photo albums full of Sinatra-related clippings and even, somewhere in his house, a lone empty jar of the Chairman's spaghetti sauce.
Some people collect simply to collect.
Sullivan limits himself to Sinatra only. He does know that when Frank passed away, he cried. He was one of the most influential people in music. The melody, the emotion, you can hear all the words. It's simply great music.