For many, many years I wouldn't sing 'My Way.' It seemed pretentious for me to sing [my father's] song 'My Way.' Now it must be in the show to help us tell the story.

As I look back on it now, I'm thinking of one very vital factor, that one factor being that I was afforded the luxury - the luxurious opportunity - of finally being able to put something back. As a child growing up, it was his [Frank Sinatra] efforts that put a roof over my head, food in my stomach, clothes on my back, and that got me an education and sent me to the doctor when I was sick. All those things a child could benefit from parent. I did not want to be in a position where all I had ever done was take, take, take, frankly.

I've never heard of any one single artist being the subject in an ongoing series of radio programs for decades. Bearing this in mind, that's the kind of thing Frank Sinatra brings out in his audience, his followers. It's personally satisfying to me because his music by and large was the greatest quality of lyrics, melody, orchestration and, of course, his magnificent approach to telling a story.

I was able to put something back. I was able to be of help to [Frank Sinatra] when he needed my help - and he did need somebody's help.

It's the way of all flesh, you know. Aging takes its toll. Like I said, it's the way of all flesh. When the time came and he finally had to step down, the thing that kept him going disappeared.

I have said my philosophy - I'm a backyard philosopher, I guess - is that the dirtiest word in the English language is "retirement."

I think in my generation, when I came along in the early '60s, the type of music that was in vogue in society in those days had moved on to another kind of music. I was trying to sell antiques in a modern appliance store.