I spent a day amongst heroes once. I almost missed it. When some friends of my husband asked him to video a memorial service for their father Duffy, who had been the president of the San Diego Chapter of The Pearl Harbor Survivors Association, I initially opted out of accompanying him.
“I don’t want to sit in a room full of strangers,” I told him. “You go ahead and we’ll go have dinner when you get back.”
“
No, you REALLY, REALLY need to come with me.” He was emphatic. “It will be a day you won’t forget.”
Truer words were never spoken. Expecting a sad, mournful day amongst strangers, I experienced a sometimes reverent, sometimes joyful celebration of heroism, honor and most importantly, true humanity - which defined the day and the man we were honoring. It was one of the best days of my life.
As we arrived and I helped my husband unload all his equipment, I noticed at least 75 older men dressed in bright Hawaiian shirts. Dallas nodded towards them. “Those are Pearl Harbor Survivors.” His voice held a worshipful tone that told me immediately that this was so much more to him than just a favor to a friend.
He grew even more excited when he pointed to a spry old man with a medal around his neck. “ That’s John Finn- the oldest Medal of Honor winner! Despite being wounded by gunfire in several places, he stood for hours shooting at Japanese planes on December 7th, 1941.”
While Dallas positioned the video equipment, I wandered around the Scottish Rite Temple as people continued to arrive. Soon I was lost in a sea of flowered shirts, military men and women in uniform, several local politicians and other dignitaries.
“Hmmm, I guess Duffy was kind of a big deal,” I murmured to myself.
I grabbed a seat as the Memorial began in the center of the packed room that easily held 300. As soon as everyone was seated, the Pearl Harbor Survivors marched in front and center to chairs reserved for them. Some could barely walk, some needed help just to reach their places, but I could tell that come hell or high water, it was important for them to make it there to honor one of their own.
The service had the customary solemnity, dignity and reverence present in most memorials - that’s where the celebration of heroism and honor came in - but the biggest difference that set this one apart was a beautiful performance of music , accompanied by a poignant remembrance from the artist of what it means to impart true humanity and understanding- even under the most difficult circumstances.
A tall, thin man of Japanese descent rose and began to play his clarinet accompanied by a recording of Big Band instruments. His talent was extraordinary and the smooth notes echoed through the temple. He soon played each Military Branch song- which sent an electrifying energy through this crowd ; mostly made up of men and women who belonged to “The Greatest Generation”-those whose service and sacrifices at war and on the home front are the reason we are free today. It was touching and inspiring to see them rise and sing with emotion and pride.
As the music died down, a spontaneous cheer rose up from the gallery, and the people stood for a full 5 minutes. It was both an ovation for the heroes present and a farewell salute to Duffy. That moment alone was so special it could have ended there. I would have been forever grateful I was present to witness it.
It didn’t end there. Tad came to the microphone and very quietly spoke.
“When I entered the military, Duffy took me under his wing. He stood by me when others shunned me because of my Japanese heritage. He was honest, kind and wise. He showed me what it meant to wear the uniform with pride. I owe him so much. Thank you Duffy.”
The beautiful notes of a lone clarinet playing Auld Lang Syne filled the room once again. You could have heard a pin drop.
Duffy, you were a big deal! More than you will EVER know....
