He was nervous. Although he had made thousands of personal appearances in the past 30 years, today was special. And he wanted to get it right. He had just arrived at Hill Air Force Base in Ogden, Utah, and been greeted by representatives from the Office of Public Affairs. Now settled in a cool van, he engaged in small talk with the military personnel and the guests that had accompanied him. Throughout the several minute drive to Hangar 37 where the day's activities were to take place, he subconsciously rubbed his legs with both hands. Thigh to knee, back and forth, back and forth. (He does that when he's anxious.) His dark eyes darted about, sparkling with excitement. His usually easy laugh even sounded edgy. Earlier, he had confided that he hadn't slept a wink the night before.
He had labored on the speech he was about to give for days. He knew he was prepared, but the stage fright was nevertheless welling up inside of him, and he was unaccustomed to the feeling. Very shortly, however, it would be showtime.
He arrived at the hangar, took a deep breath and jumped off the van. He was immediately greeted by Major General Kevin Sullivan, Ogden Air Logistics Commander. The hangar was already filled with military men and women stationed at Hill Air Force Base, except for the front row. It had been reserved for the distinguished guests of the day: veterans from all branches of the service. They had been members of the Army Infantry, the 339th Fighter Squadron, the Army Air Force and the Army Air Corps. There were Navy and Air Force pilots, a Marine Raider, and the only living Medal of Honor winner from the State of Utah. They had fought in faraway places like Iwo Jima, New Guinea, Australia, China, Utah Beach, Guadacanal and the Philippines. They had landed at Normandy on D-Day and survived the Battle of the Bulge and the Bataan Death March. One had participated in the liberation of a concentration camp. Most of them proudly wore colorful Veteran's hats, adorned with service stars and embroidered with the names of battles long ago. They were a microcosm of the Greatest Generation and they now had seats of honor in the front row of Hangar 37.
It was time. He was escorted into the hangar and introduced to the assembled crowd. He walked to the stage a bit tentatively, and solemnly acknowledged the warm welcome. Before him was a diverse audience. The wizened old vets in the front row in the sunset of their years contrasted sharply with the eager young faces of the military men and women, just approaching high noon of their lives. Sprinkled throughout the crowd were cameramen and reporters, much more used to covering the cynical world than the feel-good vibes of this particular event.
With a huge American flag as a backdrop and the occasional muffled drone of a fighter jet in the distance, he began with a few words of introduction. Again the nervous laugh crept into his speech. Usually so at ease in front of a crowd, he was at first a little hesitant. He so wanted to do well, to not "mess up." Suddenly, with no warning, his rich tenor voice launched into an a cappella version of the song he had written several years ago to honor his parents. "He was a streetwise kid from Philly, just nineteen in Forty-four. Joined up in Uncle's Army, hit the beach and fought a war..." Taken somewhat by surprise, the audience was hushed; they hung on every word. Halfway through the song he choked up. Singing about GI Joe and Lillie in front of their peers was just too much. He stopped for a moment, collected himself and soldiered on. From then on, he narrated a good portion of the song, rather than singing it. Perhaps it was easier for him to get through it that way. A few good friends that had accompanied him stood clustered together at the back of the hangar, literally willing him to do well. And do well, he did. He finished the song in a strong, clear voice, and was rewarded with a standing ovation.
From that point on, he had everyone's undivided attention. He spoke about sacrifice and dedication, of evil and messed up values. He encouraged the young military personnel and told them they were appreciated. He shared a story about putting a bully in his place when he was just a skinny kid in Philadelphia, and likened it to our present day situation in Iraq. He praised our President and had a few choice words about Saddam and his sons, much to the delight of the audience. As he concluded his remarks by thanking both the veterans and the young people for their service, the emotion engulfed him. You can't fake that kind of admiration, and the crowd knew it. They jumped to their feet as one, and loved him right back.
Presentations of books and CD's, exchanges of gifts, and photo opportunities followed, and then two remarkable things took place. As all the veterans gathered around him for a picture, they almost simultaneously burst into a chorus of "Elvira", with their speaker leading the sing-a-long. The grins on their faces spread from ear to ear....and they knew all the words, too!
Next, as the veterans left the stage, he was once again surrounded; this time by the enlisted young men and women. Dressed in camouflage uniforms and boots, they besieged him. They shook his hand, slapped him on the back, asked for a photo or an autograph. Most of them were in diapers or not even gleams in their parents' eyes when "Elvira" was climbing the charts. No, these young men and women weren't swarming because they were starstruck; but they had been seduced by a man twice their age who had never even been in the military. They understood in their hearts that he valued the job they were doing and the sacrifices they were making, and had taken time out of his busy schedule to tell them so. And they wanted to capture the moment. It was a special exchange to observe.
After a slew of media interviews and a VIP tour of the base, it was time to leave. Time for another show, another 90 minutes of singing the hits. Time to get back on the bus and back on the road. Time to get back to being an Oak Ridge Boy.
But for a few hours on this day, he had been a little more. He had been afforded the opportunity to honor his parents among "their" people, he had been able to thank his parents' peers for their incredible sacrifices and he had been able to encourage a group of some of our nation's finest young people. It had been a good day for another streetwise kid from Philly, for GI Joey. GI Joe and Lillie would have been proud.

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