Thanksgiving comes to us out of all the prehistoric dimness, universal to all ages and all faiths. At whatever straw we must grasp, there is always a time for gratitude and new beginnings.
Pavarotti retains a kind of religious, mystical, commitment to his "work.” And he insists on referring to it as "work,” claiming: "You can always love your work; your profession, at best, you can exercise.” Few people realize that the joyful tenor, the man who is always smiling, is almost a cloistered monk . . .
