And now, the end is near, and so I face the final curtain. My friend. I'll say it clear, I'll state my case of which I am certain. "My Way," 1968.

Were Francis Albert Sinatra still alive today, he'd have been 83 years old last Saturday. Some people swear by his resoluteness and style. Many, simply swear at him, and probably justifiably so. Bracketing Frank the man, few can deny, though, his fundamental importance to American popular music. In such spirit, I'd like to say, Thanks Frank. Thanks for the music.

Now that the end of the semester lies just a page flip away on my VFW Memorial calendar, I find myself reflecting on my semester. Along with weekly papers in Gen. Ed. 105, I might be turning a bit schizophrenic, but now is my time to pause, let thoughts seep out, and hopefully let Grace seep in.

When a certain someone would not attend the HRO first concert with me, I internalized Sinatra's "A Man Alone, behind the walls I've learned to call my home." Walls. It is easy to see how people retreat behind them. So much the easier to attend all my classes, to volunteer time with my Best Buddy whom I adore, and to dream of coordinating a research project for summer '99 than to realize that I need people with me.

So I call. I call my good friend from California, and the two of us feel we are in the same boat--it is the one we call mid-year doldrums. To push ourselves back into the current, we get away. How I do remember that Kroks/Chattertocks concert. Although the Kroks cannot replace Frank, their rendition of Cole Porter's "I've Got You Under My Skin" was good. Afterwards, we went to the Cheesecake Factory, and I got to know another human being and fellow House resident.

Sure, my musings might seem trivial and perhaps even silly, but meeting and noticing and appreciating and making a friend, completely apart from a Harvard extracurricular activity, well, it is a rare moment I cherish. I was made to feel special and valuable. And noticing the brightly beaming smile--one that exuded pure joy--I cannot think of anything I really love more. Since early freshman year, how many such moments have there been?

I'd leave all my troubles, leave all my cares, I'd never mind. I could turn the gray skies to blue, if I had you. "If I Had You," 1956.

Here, my you was a one day sojourn to Osterville, Cape Cod. Were it not for a generous offer to accompany my roommate and a classmate to the latter's home, I would have spent a post-exam weekend tired and worried sick for my grade. Instead, away from Cambridge I saw stars. Lots of them. Then there was salt march, beautiful water and even a barn-just like home.

Upon returning, I was reminded of the beauty in the built landscape of my home. Think about daily life here. Notice the hollyberry bushes in the Winthrop courtyard or the chokecherry tree in the Dunster one. Next time, while walking to dinner at Lowell Dining Hall, glimpse the beautiful Christmas tree in one the rooms just to the left of the dining hall door. While it is sometimes inconvenient to take pause, how much more spontaneous and rewarding are our days in light of the dapples of humanity we can witness?

Days may be cloudy or sunny. We might be in or we might be out of the money, but I'm with you always. I'm with you rain or shine. "Come Rain or Come Shine," 1961.

Looking back at this past fall, my happiest experiences, without question, were with friends. Already, it is mid-December and I've only been lucky enough to share a few experiences, but these times I will remember. Life. I'm going through it. These people I've mentioned are going through it as well. Once in a while, we get together. And it is special. So too, from the far recesses of my mind, do I draw together with the music of my youth, the music of Francis Albert Sinatra. Godspeed Frank.