For Those in Peril on the Sea

Eternal Father, strong to save, Whose arm hath bound the restless wave,
Who biddest the mighty ocean deep, It’s own appointed limits keep,
Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee, For those in peril on the sea.

If you or someone you love has had the privilege of calling themselves a sailor, no doubt you recognize the words of The Navy Hymn. Written as a gift for a student sailing to the U.S. in 1860 by the Rev. William Whiting, a schoolmaster and clergyman of the Church of England, the poem was originally based on Rev. Whiting's experience of surviving a terrible storm on the Mediterranean. A year later, these words were put to music by the Rev. John B. Dykes. The tune was named “Melita,” for the island now known as Malta, in reference to the place where the Apostle Paul took refuge after his ship capsized (Acts 28:1).

A few years later, the tradition of using The Navy Hymn to close Sunday services at the United States Naval Academy in Annapolis began. It was played at the funeral of President Franklin Roosevelt, who had served as Secretary of the Navy, and when President John F. Kennedy’s body was carried up the steps of the U.S. Capitol in honor of his naval service. Since that time, lyrics have been added to honor the Seabees, the Marines, the Navy SEALs, submariners and divers, the Coast Guard, and even those who wait for loved ones to return home.

As a native of landlocked Nebraska, this hymn never really had much of an effect on me. I had no practical understanding of how vulnerable sailors must feel when faced with oceans vast and treacherous. That all changed about a year ago, when the Hussies played for a group of elderly veterans of World War II. These shipmates had served together aboard the LST 944, a Tank Landing Ship that had participated in the assault and occupation of Iwo Jima in February 1945, and Okinawa Gunto, from April through June of that same year.

We didn’t know when we were hired to play for this reunion that there was a special significance to this particular night. It was to be the final gathering of this group of men and their families. Age had taken its toll on many of them, and few remained healthy enough to travel from around the U.S. to take part. But their sense of joy of being together had not dimmed, and we were able to charm them with our music and humor. We began that evening as strangers, and left as friends, knowing we had been able to minimize the sadness of their final reunion and help them celebrate what they had meant to each other all these years.

It was because of that evening that I have a new appreciation for the sea and for the war these men fought so gallantly. As I looked into the faces of these ordinary men who had gone on to live regular lives, I saw the faces of heroes, living, breathing, real-life heroes. And because of that night, I now have a better understanding and respect for their commitment and their steadfastness.

The sight and sound of these men and their families joining together to sing The Navy Hymn will remain with me for a long time. Never again will I hear that song and not think about these men who touched my life with their humility and the gift of freedom they have given us all.

Pass the Folk Music, Please

Music has been an intrinsic part of life since time began. People throughout the centuries have used music to entertain, to memorialize, and to celebrate the events of the day. Higher forms of music have evolved, creating sounds that can only be reproduced in a specific manner, but it is the music of the people that many of us hold dear.

For me, folk music is the sound that is the most easily replicated, vocalized, and remembered. It allows me to explore the lives of people with whom I can identify, it captures feelings that may be too tender or too precious to express, and it can stir an audience to sing along, even if they really don't want to. But most importantly, it's portable. We can take folk music with us wherever we go. We can sing it in our minds or out loud, we can play along by drumming on a table or simply strumming chords to accompany ourselves, or we can join together for an impromptu sing-along, complete with harmonies.

As I was growing up, I gravitated to music, not knowing why. I played piano, I played the clarinet, and I sang in school and church choirs. Exposure to music came from places you would expect, and some that might surprise you. I loved the hymns in church, the descants, the joy and solemnity, and the richness of four-part harmonies. I loved marching band, with its stirring percussion, explosive brass, and soaring woodwinds. And I loved classical music, from the Bach, Beethoven, and Mozart used by my piano teacher to teach technique, to the scores Warner Brothers used behind the likes of Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, and Elmer Fudd. This was where I learned about opera, the symphony, and how classical music could tell a story without any words.

But it’s folk music, and the sound of the instruments used to make that music, that keeps me coming back for more. To sing songs that are centuries old but are still relevant today. To play tunes that remain part of the fabric of our society. And to know that I am part of what keeps this tradition alive for generations to come.

I know that folk music isn’t for everyone. If it were, folk musicians everywhere would be living high on the hog. But if you love the sounds of guitar, banjo, mandolin, and autoharp, if simple harmonies thrill you like nothing else, and if you've ever thought to yourself, "I could do that!" then you’ve been bitten by the folk music bug, for which there is no cure. In the immortal words of Tevye, the Yiddish dairyman from Fiddler on the Roof, “May folk music smite me, and may I never recover!” Okay, I did change the quote a bit, but you get the message. Next time, I'll sing the words and you can hum along.