July is Three Tenors month. There have been more Three Tenors concerts held in July than in any other month. Of course, the first one was held on July 7, 1990 at Terme di Caracalla in Rome, Italy, to commemorate the World Cup Football (soccer in the US) finals. José Carreras, Plácido Domingo, and Luciano Pavarotti thrilled 6,000 lucky spectators and half a billion fans on that fateful night. The next two World Cup finals, in 1994 and 1998, saw the Three Tenors re-unite, on July 16, 1994 in Los Angeles, California and July 10, 1998 in Paris, France. Beginning in 1996, the Three Tenors began a worldwide concert tour, filling stadia in Europe, Australia, Japan, and the United States. For me, July 7, the anniversary date of the original concert, will always be Three Tenors day, a day for listening to the original concert, celebrating with a special dinner, and even having a sing-along.

In honor of Three Tenors month, I would like to share my recollections of a very special day. July 20, 1996, the Three Tenors played to a sold out house at Giants Stadium in East Rutherford, New Jersey. I was extremely blessed to have been a part of this wonderful evening. When I got home, I spent 1½ hours, despite my exhaustion, furiously writing in my diary before the memory began to fade. Fortunately, I still remember it as if it were yesterday. The following recount is based on my diary entry, augmented with afterthoughts from seeing the video of the concert I attended as well as reflections as my mind processed my experience.

July 20, 1996: Section 325, Row 4, Seat 19-THE THREE TENORS!!!!!!! Ever since I got my ticket nine months ago, I've imagined every single scenario on earth that could interfere with my plans to attend, from a sick child to a broken down car to Armageddon. The last week before the concert I could not eat from anxiety. One would have thought I was giving the concert, not the tenors. In my local newspaper, a spokesperson for the New Jersey Sports and Exhibition Authority recommended getting to Giants Stadium early. I followed his advice, leaving my house at 3:30 p.m. for the 8 p.m. performance. There was very little traffic, and I arrived at Giants Stadium just before 5 p.m. The parking booths were not yet opened, but the gates were, and a security guard waved me through into the parking lot without charging me the customary $10. I parked in the first row. There was a souvenir stand right outside Gate C, so I stopped and bought a T-shirt, a concert program, a silk scarf, and a teddy bear. After I bought my souvenirs, I joined a tailgate party in the parking lot. They had food, I had tapes they didn't have, so it worked out perfectly. I watched the field seat spectators file in wearing formal wear. I had donned the t-shirt and left everything else except the insert in the program with the song list in the trunk of my car.

I'm in an aisle seat, sitting next to a couple named Pamela and Frank. Maestro James Levine is rehearsing the orchestra, in jeans and a light jacket. There are no tenors in sight. Giants Stadium is huge-there are 2 large screens set up near the stage to afford a front-row view to those not fortunate enough to be able to afford $2,500 for the top ticket. Despite their weight and bulk, I brought my 10x bird-watching binoculars, not my lightweight 3x opera glasses. It is unseasonably cold tonight. I bought a special dress to wear, and even lost 15 pounds so I could breathe while wearing the dress. Alas, the weather did not cooperate, and I am wearing jeans, a light jacket, and my Three Tenors T-shirt. I'm watching for celebrities. Mostly I'm seeing the behinds of the people who have seats in the first three rows as they pass in front of me. The only ones I'm sure I saw is Venezuelan actor Orlando Casin and former President and Mrs. George Bush. And Governor Christine Whitman of New Jersey, who was in the front row talking to her friends and made the concert start ten minutes late.

The concert began. Bernstein's 'Overture' from Candide was the longest six minutes and thirty-two seconds of my life. I spent it watching all those little starlets in their skimpy cocktail dresses RUNNING on their stiletto heels to find their seats. By the end of the concert, the temperature had dropped to 50 degrees Fahrenheit, and a considerable amount of field-level skin had turned blue.

José Carreras came on stage. The last of my missing-the-concert anxiety faded as he began to sing 'I Lamento di Federico', I began to cry. José seemed a bit nervous like he always does at the beginning of a performance. By the time Plácido Domingo had sung 'Ô Souverain, ô juge, ô père' and Luciano Pavarotti had sung 'Mamma, quel vino è generoso', I had decided to give in and go with my emotions.

What happened next, I can only describe as a healing, a catharsis. Carreras returned to sing 'Musica Proibita'. Not understanding any Italian at the time, for all I know he could have been singing about driving a truck. However, when he sang "la frase che m'ha fatto palpitare", he raised his right eyebrow and looked at me. We've made eye contact every single time I have attended one of his performances. He reached out - across that huge stadium space, time, and 70,000 people simply disappeared a he put his arms around me, and drew me into his embrace, into his heart. Never in my entire life have I ever felt so deeply loved, wanted, cherished, accepted, and protected as I did at that moment. I could not hold back the tears. I could not stifle the sobs. I did not want to. People three rows away were staring. I did not care. The emotion was so raw. It totally changed me. As long as I keep José's loving embrace in my heart, no matter what happens to me, I'll be all right. Even now, I still feel the warmth, the tenderness, the kindness. God sent him to me tonight. I will never be able to repay him. I don't know if he will ever know how intensely he touched me. "Tesoro mio" indeed!

I was still in reverie while Plácido sang 'No puede ser'. Luciano's rendition of 'La mia canzone al vento' put me in a very happy mood. His happiness set the stage for the first medley. I noticed at the time that José seemed a bit out of it. Watching the video later, it seemed to me that he was sad, and that only the comforting arm of Plácido kept him from running off the stage in tears. To this day, I do not know why.

While José was singing Granada, I was remembering happy times of speeding down the interstate with the tape of Granada from the 1990 concert playing full blast.

Plácido then sang 'Dein ist mein ganzes Herz'. At my July 7, 1992 Three Tenors costume party, that song got reworked after the second keg was opened. You have not lived until you've heard 35 drunk, untrained voices singing "Wrecked is my rented Hertz!" I don't know any German, so for all I know Plácido could have been singing about driving a (rented) truck. How apt that it comes from an operetta called The Land of Smiles. Plácido smiles, and makes goo-goo faces when he sings this song. My knees turn to Jell-O when he makes goo-goo faces. Luciano then sang another song to lift my spirits, Bixio's 'Mamma'. Then the orchestra played the Bacchanale from Samson et Dalila. I remember that I was anxious for them to finish up so I could hear My Tenors.

José moved me to tears again with the 'Improvviso' from Andrea Chenier. I cried because I was moved by José's grand singing, and I cried for Chenier's unhappy fate.

When Plácido sang 'È lucevan le stelle', Frank, sitting next to me, and I looked up at the starlit night together and nodded understandingly.

By the time the Three Tenors sang the second medley, I was shivering with the cold. José seemed to be in a better state of mind, not ready to burst into tears. I was most impressed by the deliberate avoidance of eye contact during 'O Sole Mio'. They've got it down to a science! After the second medley, they acknowledged the presence of the Three Sopranos, Kathleen Cassello, Kallen Esperian, and Cynthia Lawrence.

The encores consisted of 'La donna è mobile', which my son Eddie insists ends with a 3-part "Pensier, pensier, pensier"; 'Torna a Surriento'; 'O Sole Mio', again with avoidance of eye contact; and 'New York, New York', sung TWICE. I don't think they watch Where in the World is Carmen San Diego (a PBS kids geography quiz show). Last time I checked, Giants Stadium was in East Rutherford NEW JERSEY! I would have liked to have heard them sing Bruce Springsteen's 'Jersey Girl'. It can easily be divided into thirds so each part has equal weight.

During the encores, someone had shouted out a request for Vesti la Giubba. I gave this person what they wanted - after the concert, when I got to my car. I happened to have a tape in my car, rewound to the beginning of 'Vesti la Giubba'. I cranked my car stereo up full blast, and I rolled down the windows so everyone else could get more. How could one get too much of the Three Tenors?

I'll never forget that night. Video doesn't do justice to the experience. This was one of the most powerfully emotional experiences of my life. I can sum it up in three words: Overwhelmed by love. That is the essence of the Three Tenors.