When I was told by my friend, an immigration attorney, I was going to Mexico to meet a famous European opera star, I expected something very different. The beauty of the small town outside of Tijuana was no surprise, but the sad look on the opera singer's face was. I hadn't a clue as to why someone living in such a paradise, could feel so down. I would later find out.

Vahan had reason not to be smiling. He had been through a living hell. And it was not getting better. His case seemed more complicated all the time, and he had the best representation available. Still, things did not look good. Even paradise, to Vahan, looked like a lifetime sentence. He would be away from the United States and the love of his life, Marika A.

Vahan had, a year ago, been arrested at LAX at age 70, handcuffed, dragged through the airport, made to sign papers he did not understand, detained, and then deported, and not allowed to return on a technical violation.

I can only imagine after 9-11, that most immigration officers at airports in their zeal to keep us safe, tended to be more aggressive if a violation was found, than not. But Vahan was hardly a threat to anyone. This man was a world famous opera tenor, in fact one of the top five anywhere, and a former resident at the Bolshoi, not to mention having been scheduled to play Carnegie Hall.

Though he did not understand my English (even a lot of Americans don't as I was raised in Mississippi, and I did not understand his Armenian, we understood each other and developed a great affection. Whatever words we did not understand were quickly interpreted by our mutual friends.

Later that year, I returned to Los Angeles to visit our mutual attorney friend, and we drove again to Mexico to visit Vahan. He was sadder than ever, and his complicated case was not looking good. His fiance Marika, a television producer and talk show host at Armenian TV in Glendale, had to commute every weekend she could to be with Vahan. The strain was beginning to wear on the relationship.

This time it was my 53rd birthday, and we went to a small restaurant called La Fonda's, really more or less a dive with an American pop band and very good Mexican food. At the break, I mentioned to the manager that one of the world's top opera stars was at our table and asked if he could sing accompanied by the band. "Of course," said the manager. I had not even asked Vahan yet but he gladly agreed. He had not sung at any venue in over a year and music was and is his life. The minute Vahan opened his mouth to sing, there was a huge smile on his face. The energy could be felt all over the room. It was magic.

As it turned out, most the band opted out but the saxophone player was keen on doing a duo. When they started O Solo Mia, you could hear a pin drop in this packed establishment. It was surreal, like something out of a Salvador Dali painting. Nobody could believe their ears and kept yelling for an encore when it was over.

What a surprise when this man dedicated O Solo Mia to me. Here was a talent who played the top venues of the world, and was enabling me to have the best birthday of my life. I will never forget it.

Today, nearly another year later, I received an email from our mutual attorney friend that his case cleared. He is a free citizen again in the U.S. and living in Los Angeles. He plans a nationwide and possibly a world tour at age 71. His voice is as clear as ever and I can hear the well-known masters every time he opens his mouth.

Vahan also has a foundation that helps disadvantaged Armenian youth find their voice in music. It does wonders for those who would never have a chance otherwise. I salute this man for hanging in there and putting up a fight for his justice. I salute the American system for allowing him another chance to make it in this great country.

America rarely lets me down, and it proved today, that it truly lives up to what is on the base of the Statue Of Liberty and in our Constitution. May Vahan live and sing to be 120.