I Will Not Sleep Until I Know You are Mine

That is part of the translation of "Nessun Dorma", Pavarotti's most famous aria from Puccini's opera Turandot. If you haven't read it yet, Luciano passed at the age of 71 at 5 am in Italy.

I came to know and love him through two channels: my own mother, who was trained in opera and many of my skaters. Brian Boitano's most beloved professional program was to "Nessun", a song and choreographic concept later copied numerous times by other skaters. Pavarotti's rendition of "La Vesta de Guiba" from Pagliacci, the story of Canio the sad clown, was immortalized by the incomparable Toller Cranston as his exhibition program after winning the bronze medal at the 1976. Dorothy Hamill gave a famous story to the media about running from her dressing room in her bathrobe just to watch him skate this. Skaters running to watch other skaters is quite rare, and an honor when it happens. She had her tights on, but not her costume, hence the bathrobe. Toller wore a bronze and black costume, similar to his "peacock" costume, which he claimed "never fell down." His autobiography "Zero Tollerance" cites this costume was worn over 200 times before it started to itch and fray at the edges. He kept it for over 20 years before he gave it away. A funny way for me to remember Pagliacci. Katia and her late husband, Sergei, also won a professional title to this in 1991. It just stands the test of time.

Ah, the joy of high C's. I've hit them, a fact not known to most, since the women in my family sing so easily we kinda take it for granted. Both Mom and I have been known to blow the average karaoke-ers away with everything from Judy Garland, Cole Porter, Art Tatum, and various show tunes. It is through her that I know the great singers. Legend has it she realized she was pregnant with me at a performance of "Aida" when her first bout of morning sickness came on. AT 9 PM AT NIGHT, NO LESS.

Another enchanting legacy of my parents' two previous marriages, both to Italians, before they met each other. And me being raised in Bensonhurst, surrounded by dangerous mobsters and blue collar guys alike who'd play Puccini, Leoncavallo, Verdi and Donizetti with pasta dinners and red wine on Sunday afternoons. A strange blend of culture: me, the shamrock, in a sea of oregano and basil!

Oh, he will be missed. For his girth, his vocal range, his smile, his famous white hankerchief in his left hand while he performed. We may have Bryn Terfel, Domingo, and Carreras, but nothing will replace those high C's and zest for life. And food. And us.

Rest in peace, Luciano. Veni, Vedi, Vici.