When I was 17...and I was. August, 1977. Having lost what I believed to be the love of my life (I found the real one a few years later - really) I moped around the house till my father couldn't stand it. "Why don't you go listen to Frank Sinatra tonight at the Arts Center? Work it out of your system." Sinatra was playing at the Saratoga Performing Arts Center that evening. I'd never really listened and never seen him on stage. Hell, why not?

No seats left in the ampitheatre, so I plopped on the lawn. Starts to rain. I mean rain. Sinatra walks on and sings. I don't remember what he sang other than a medley of "Violets For Your Furs/When Your Lover Has Gone". Sat there in the damn rain and cried my eyes out. Sinatra left, I walked home in the rain and woke the next morning a new man. Still bruised, but new.

August, 1993. The same ampitheatre, the same man, the real love of my life. It was raining, too. This time I'm reviewing the concert for the paper. Still don't remember what he sang, but I do remember not really being THERE ... I was in 1977.

Thanks, Frank. Not only do you help me get through the rough spots, you make the victories sweeter. You didn't lose anything on your deathbed; you simply brought your vibrancy and relevance to another crowd.

Anthony Simone

Although I am only 17 years old I was extremely shocked to hear about the passing of the chairman of the board. I am his biggest fan and I know his music will live on forever. I hope all people my age can come to know and appreciate his music and his legend just as I have.

Alison Kuhn
age 17

Eversince I was 17 years old I've enjoyed Frank's voice and music. I can say that he is and always will be the provider of the soundtrack of my life.

Matthijs Janssen