Peace on Earth?

I Wonder. . .





I’m playing for a friend’s church service this Sunday. They’re singing the beautiful old hymn, "I Heard The Bells On Christmas Day" by Henry W. Longfellow and John B. Calkin. I hadn’t thought about this hymn in a long time until I read the lyrics written back in 1864. They seemed strangely resonant to me today:

I heard the bells on Christmas day
Their old familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet the words repeat
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

And in despair I bowed my head:
“There is no peace on earth,” I said,
“For hate is strong and mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good will to men.”

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
“God is not dead, nor does He sleep;
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail
With peace on earth, good will to men.”

It’s ironic that the images of an Iraqi journalist hurling both his shoes at President Bush as a gesture of the journalist’s contempt for the U.S. invasion of Iraq in 2003 pervades the press at a time of year when the subject of “peace on earth” is at least broached. The journalist yelled in Arabic as the first shoe flew from his hand: “This is a gift from the Iraqis. This is the farewell kiss, you dog.” As he flung the second shoe, he cried out: “This is from the widows, the orphans and those who were killed in Iraq.” It made me wonder--is peace on earth possible, or does it exist only in the lofty rhetoric of poets and dreamers?

I believe that peace on earth has at least a chance if America ceases to impose our military in countries because of some agenda we have, with seeming little concern of the ravages our presence will leave in its wake;

I believe that peace on earth will be possible when world citizens are as moved by the plight of a tsunami survivor, or the retaliatory gang-rape of an innocent woman as we are by what happens to our neighbors in our respective countries;

I believe that peace on earth is possible when greed ceases to be the engine that drives the wheel of all mankind;

I believe that peace on earth is possible when the preying on the weaknesses and vulnerability of other human beings in order to perpetuate addiction or some form of co-dependency ceases to be;

I believe that peace on earth is possible when each of us treats fellow human beings the way we would like to be treated—with kindness, consideration, tolerance, compassion and respect; and

I believe that people on earth is possible when each of us works together for the good of all humankind.

I acknowledge and appreciate that many of you reading this already treat others lovingly and respectfully. Everyday I read about someone somewhere doing good, and my heart rejoices. My warmest wishes for a joyous and meaningful holiday. I hope that you’re able to spend your holidays with those you love. Continued health and happiness in 2009.

Oh yeah. . . and peace within, and peace on earth.

Phil Hall
Christmas, 2008

A Swingin' Christmas Indeed!

or, Showtime at The Apollo Theater

For better or for worse, I have an uncanny ability to focus. I mean, the ceiling could come crashing in, and—as long as it didn’t literally fall down on me, I’d finish what I was doing before I noticed. So, when my good friend, Karen Arlington, called to invite me to be her guest to see Tony Bennett with the Count Basie Band at the Apollo Theater tonight (I was in the middle of something else at my desk when she rang), my enthusiasm for her generous offer left a little to be desired.

But, when we got to the theater, and the Count Basie Band started lettin’ it rip, I realized I was one lucky guy with one great, smiling, redheaded friend to my left. One would think, with my having lived in New York City for thirty years now (and having grown up in Durham, North Carolina), I wouldn't forget that I can finish work, get in a cab, and go hear some of the greatest music-making in the world on any given night in this amazing city. And what a treat we were in for tonight!

The leader of the band mentioned that he had joined the band in 1952. Doing the math, I realized that he had been a member of the Count Basie Band for fifty-six years. He had been a member of that band for all the years I have been on this earth. And, having just heard them play, I understood why.

The band has four trumpets, four trombones, five reeds, piano, bass, drums and guitar. There was a female pianist (whose name they announced and I failed to catch) who appeared to be “guesting” with the band. It was great fun watching her dressy-sandaled feet keeping time to the music as she played.

And then, if the Count Basie Band playing four or five songs to warm up the audience wasn’t enough, out comes Tony Bennett and his amazing conductor/pianist, Lee Musiker, and several of Tony Bennett’s rhythm section players. It’s almost unimaginable to think that Tony Bennett is eighty-two years old. If I’m still vertical at eighty-two (and I might be--my grandmother lived to be 99, and her oldest child lived to be 101 [married to a 106 year old]), I’ll consider it miraculous (and realize that God has a great sense of humor. I keep waiting for the day I get up from the piano bench only to find that my posterior is shaped exactly like the piano bench). And while Tony Bennett may not have the fresh bloom of youth in his voice that he had as a younger man, it doesn’t matter one jot--we're still in the presence of a master. Watching him do what he loves to do—sing his heart out—is a lesson in following one’s bliss. He sings the lyrics as though he has taken a sip of his favorite beverage, and is rolling it around inside his mouth to prolong the pleasure. Finally, he serves the lyrics up but only when he’s ready to impart them to our delight and understanding. And while his voice is not as supple as it was in his youth, he is utterly fearless with it--singing the same high notes he sang sixty years ago, and with the same gusto that has distinguished his career. Tonight, I got to see and hear one of the all-time greats ply his craft, and that’s exactly what he is, and what he does. He is a lesson in how, at the end of the day, spirit prevails. I don’t believe his spirit has any idea how old his body is. And I hope it never finds out.