Tenor, twelve.

Growing up in an Italian household had many joys (and trials). Growing up Italian meant appreciating the little things like aunts that pinched your cheeks until they distended, cousins that you were forced to endure though they were not blood, strange smells/sounds, long holiday celebrations, pasta drying on a string across the living room on sundays. But one constant in the background that never waivered was the voice of Luciano Pavarotti. My grandfather was stalwart in his love for opera, a passion he passed to my father. The tenor's voice filled our house as the music of "choice" on the weekends when family time was mandated. It really made the time pleasant and shared a world we may not have seen had we been raised in more sane environments. Our experiences growing up have made us better adults and very tight as a family. I wouldn't trade much from my youth, I wouldn't trade those memories of sunday with the family and Pagliacci. With Pavarotti's passing a little piece of my childhood goes with him. Pavarotti performed with many varied artists, but this video sums up growing up in the eighties and nineties, to a t(for tenor and twelve)