Gard has put together some thoughts on an experience he had on Sunday, May 27. It seemed fitting to post it here:

"My family doesn't have parties on Memorial Day Weekend. We usually do things together and take time to visit the graves of our families in NH and Massachusetts.

"On Sunday, I happened to go with my sister and niece to Borders, one of our favorite haunts. While there, we met an author who was signing copies of his latest book. The man had seen his family driven from their home by the SS in WWII, and their property later taken by the Soviets. He then worked as a jazz drummer in France, and eventually moved to Canada as a young man. During that time, he traveled a great deal for international business, and was eventually imprisoned for three months by Castro. His perseverance was remarkable, and, perhaps, helped inspire him to write his novel, a suspense story about modern terrorism.

"While chatting with him, I was surprised to see my friend Malcolm enter the store. This is a man who served in the US Marines as a machine gunner and has a few stories to tell himself. My sister and niece had to leave soon thereafter, and Mick and I began to wander around the mighty Borders to find items of interest.

"It was then that I walked by a frail old man, standing not too far from the information desk, his light blue button-down shirt and light blue pants matched by a robins-egg colored hat. He appeared to be about ninety, and very weak, his nose literally near dripping, as if he had a cold. I walked past him, glanced his way, and then turned as I thought about his age, and what that most likely told me about his background. He had probably served in WWII.

"I turned around and approached him, asking him if he was a veteran, and he said 'yes', to which I responded with a quick query about whether he had been in World War II.

"'I was,' he said, still hunched over and unable to look me in the eye as we talked. 'I was in the Pacific.'

"'My father was in the Pacific, too,' I told him. 'I know you must have had some rough going.'

"He nodded and we introduced ourselves. His name was Jay, and he talked a bit about his time in the war. Then we shook hands and I thanked him for his great sacrifice and courage. He seemed very touched by that, and thanked me for coming to him and saying hello.

"'How did you know I was a veteran?' he asked.

"I didn't want to tell him that I guessed at his background due to his age and frailty, but at that moment, I caught another glimpse of his hat, and noticed the navy insignia on it that I had not noticed earlier.

"'I saw your hat,' I said, pointing. 'Hey, you know... In honor of you, I'll listen to a little Benny Goodman tonight, Jay.'

"It was at that moment, he tried to straighten up, looking at me through red-rimmed eyes that had seen much more than I will probably ever be able to imagine.

"'I have to look at you,' he said, straining to see my face. 'You're so young! How do you know Benny Goodman?'

"I told him that my dad had loved Benny Goodman, Harry James, Gene Krupa, and all the great Swing performers. I told him I thought the 1933 Carnegie Hall show by Benny was one of the best. 'Sing, Sing, Sing...' I began...

"And he nodded and smiled. 'That was great music,' he confirmed, clearly thinking back to different times now long gone. 'Thank you so much for coming over.'

"I shook his hand again, and, after wishing him a good evening, I thanked him for chatting, and then I walked away. Later, I caught some live footage from the Memorial Day concert in front of the Capital Building in DC., and I saw the younger vets watching the concert, listening to old and new songs alike. I thought about how, regardless of how one feels about a nation's foreign policy in this era or that, or how one feels about government protection and its inefficiencies, about the politicization of national defense and the use or misuse of soldiers at certain times -- regardless of how one feels about all these things, there are men from decades ago, and men and women from today, who have dropped their boots on the dirt of lands far off, on the decks of ships rolling in seas thousands of miles away, on planes high over unknown territory, who took on those chores and those dangers because they believed they were needed to keep the United States safe. Some people might feel that at various times in United States history, these men and women have been sold a 'bill of goods', others will disagree. But one thing that can be true for all, I hope, is the awareness of the frail humanity of these men, and their courage to try to do what they believed was right in defending the US.

"I walked away from that man named Jay remembering what he said about Benny Goodman, because it was the same thing my father used to say when he thought back to those days.

"'It was great music.'

"I'm going to put on 'Sing, Sing, Sing' right now, in honor of them: just plain guys who faced things I can't fathom, regular folk who loved music and simple pleasures, and loved life. Some of them made it and enjoyed life even more, despite all they had been through. Many of their friends never got to share those experiences, never got married, never had kids. I don't need to employ some grandiose metaphor to describe how difficult it is to grasp the sacrifices of simple men during war, all I need to do is think about a man like Jay who lived on, and how many men like him did not."

Carnegie Hall Jazz Concert