Hope

What A Wonderful World; Louis Armstrong

“Erik, you’re going to California.” Huh? “The DOD is sending musical support from all of the military branches out to Los Angeles to honor the USO on the occasion of its sixtieth anniversary. The colonel has handed the job over to Pete, and Pete has asked for you.” So, I’m going to California? “You’re going to Los Angeles.” I’m going to Los Angeles? “You’re going to Hollywood.” Su-weeeeeeeeet!

Hello? “Erik, this is Pete.” Hey, Pete. “We’re going to California.” We’re going to Los Angeles. “We’re going to Hollywood.” Su-weeeeeeeeet. “I know. Listen, I have these mildly virtuosic variations on Yankee Doodle for violin and piano. They certainly would fill the bill for the job. What do you think?” Sounds good to me. Shall we run through them on Friday? “Sounds good.”

Hello? “Erik, this is Pete.” Hey, Pete. “I just heard that the DOD is also going to honor Bob Hope on the same gig.” We get to see Bob Hope? “Dude, we’re going to PLAY for Bob Hope!” Well, this just moves this whole thing up to another level, doesn’t it? “I agree.” We need more than Mr. Doodle and his wacky high jinks. “Do you have something in mind?” Maybe. Let’s meet on Friday.

Armed with a very powerful, an extremely potent arrangement of “What A Wonderful World”, a quiet extravaganza designed to dehydrate the tear ducts of the most dispassionate scoundrel, guaranteed to run the most industrial strength, asbestos-laced mascara the movie industry can concoct – we took the stage. And there – out there in the audience – giving us their complete star-eyed focus – sat Mickey Rooney, Buddy Ebsen, Michael Douglas, Steven Spielberg, that girl who played the Marine Lieutenant Colonel on JAG with a backless dress – oh, yeah, I remembered her – and countless others. But no Bob Hope. We had received word weeks before the event that the final decision concerning his attendance that evening might not happen until late afternoon; it all depended on how Mr. Hope felt.

Well, we didn’t hold back. Only the last few seconds of our outpourings gave direct acclaim to the great Bob Hope. Everything we played before it hailed the work and purpose of the USO. We got our standing ovation. And Pete and I were deeply gratified. All humility intact, it’s fun to hear movie stars applaud your music.

Until I left for graduate school, I don’t remember a time when I didn’t attend the mid-morning Memorial Day Services lead by the American Legion, Post 200, in Bruce, South Dakota. The pomp and solemnity with which these former soldiers brought tribute to their fallen brethren impacted my sisters and me. Each year at the end of May, we revisited that last degree to which a serviceman or servicewoman, an honest to God trooper, a real fighter, gave protection to the helpless, for national and human ideals, for freedom itself.

I saw an e-mail a few days ago that closed with the sentiment: Happy Memorial Day. And I thought, Now that’s inappropriate. I consider Memorial Day in the same vein as Good Friday. Good Friday isn’t supposed to be happy. Neither is Memorial Day. We’re supposed to be sad. All day. Yeah, well, that doesn’t happen, does it? Maybe I’m the only one with the frownies.

This afternoon, at the wedding reception that I played, I realized that we give the greatest honor to the brave, who gave that last ounce of defense, by celebrating those things that they fell to protect. Today, at the reception, we celebrated – by virtue of food, music, cake and champagne - a birthday, a marriage, family, friendship and love. Just a few of the profusion of things that make our world … wonderful.

Credits: To the USO, for standing with the branches of military service to bring hope … and Hope … to heroes. Thank you.