That's the Guy for Me (Is that a ribbon on your chest, or are you just glad to see me?)

LENO USED TO HAVE A STORY he loved to tell about his early days at the Improv in New York. An older comic had started hanging around the club; he'd been out of the business for a while, and wanted to get back in. And he had material like, "You ever notice it's always the guys in uniform who get the girls?"

One night Jay and some of the other young comics sat him down and suggested that maybe he should think about updating his act. So the guy went onstage the next night and said, "You ever notice it's always the Green Berets who get the girls?"

Now, whether it was the '70s when the story happened, or the '80s when I heard it, the laugh was the same: The poor sap had missed the point and changed a phrase instead of dropping the outdated premise.

Recently (like you, I'm sure) I've seen spots on television of soldiers sending Christmas messages home to families and loved ones. And suddenly, seeing those earnest, young faces, it seemed to me that maybe I'm the one who missed the point. Because--and be honest--if you laughed at the opening story, then we're both part of a long, sad change.

Somewhere after World War II, somewhere after Korea, somewhere in the '60s, it became unfashionable, if not absurd, that American women should be attracted first and foremost to men in uniform. I seem to remember an old lyric from a song, "I want a man in a uniform, a man in a uniform . . . That's the guy for me!" I don't know who first recorded that, but I'm guessing it wasn't Britney Spears. Of course, it might have been The Village People, but that's another story entirely.

What changed? Maybe I'm mistaken, but I imagine an America in the '40s that was positively in love with its soldiers: Giving them rides and meals, letting them use phones, introducing their sisters, shaking their hands and wishing them luck (not with their sisters, of course; well, maybe)--and praying for them.

Perhaps the icy winters and conflicting strategies of the Korean War were the first scratchings of cynicism, but I don't think the average American altered his affection for our soldiers. I'd like to see a survey from the '50s like the ones today: "What professions do you respect the most?" I'm pretty sure the military would have been high on the list. (Then again, so would furriers and tobacconists.)

I REMEMBER a good movie made in the '50s about America at the start of the Korean War. Dana Andrews, Farley Granger, Ray Collins, Jim Backus. Black and white. I think it was a sequel of sorts to the wonderful "The Best Years Of Their Lives."

There's a scene in the local bar where a soldier in uniform (a very young Martin Milner) is about to be shipped overseas. He asks for a beer like his older friends, and everyone laughs warmly when the bartender says, "You know I can't do that, kid, I could lose my license." Suddenly the music on the radio is interrupted by a bulletin. The announcer says that Chinese troops have attacked across the 32nd parallel, and American casualties are high. The music resumes, and the bar is silent. Then, without saying a word, the bartender turns around, reaches for a glass, pours a beer, and gently sets it in front of Milner. Nice.

DURING VIETNAM, things changed so much I remember a poster with three pretty young women sitting on a couch. And the caption read, "Girls say yes to boys who say no." In other words--well, you don't really need any other words, do you?

As we all know, Vietnam vets were often glared at, yelled at, and spat upon as they carried their duffel bags through American airports. It must take an extraordinary level of hate to do something like that. I don't know where those people are today, but I'll bet you a dollar I know who they're supporting for president.

Which brings us to the end of 2003. I've never served in a war and I've never risked anything greater than a joke not working onstage (although there used to be club in Boston named Nick's that's still the only place I've ever seen an "F-Troop" fistfight). And I am moved beyond words by the skill and devotion and clarity and purpose of our troops and their leaders, men and women, and I've never felt differently, not then, not now, and I believe in what they're doing. And I pray. And I know I'm not alone.

Still, it would be nice, someday, to see a comedian walk onstage and once again say, "You ever notice it's always the guys in uniform who get the girls?"

The Five Stages of Drinking

A Larry Miller classic

LEVEL 1:

It's 11:00 on a weeknight, you've had a few beers. You get up to leave because you have work the next day and one of your friends buys another round. One of your UNEMPLOYED friends. Here at level one you think to yourself, "Oh come on, this is silly, why as long as I get seven hours of sleep (snap fingers), I'm cool.".

LEVEL 2:

It's midnight. You've had a few more beers. You've just spent 20 minutes arguing against artificial turf. You get up to leave again, but at level two, a little devil appears on your shoulder. And now you're thinking, "Hey! I'm out with my friends! What am I working for anyway? These are the good times! Besides, as long as I get five hours sleep (snaps fingers) I'm cool.".

LEVEL 3:

One in the morning. You've abandoned beer for tequila. You've just spent 20 minutes arguing FOR artificial turf. And now you're thinking, "Our waitress is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen!" At level three, you love the world. On the way to the bathroom you buy a drink for the stranger at the end of the bar just because you like his face. You get drinking fantasies. (like, "Hey fellas, if we bought our own bar, we could live together forever. We could do it. Tommy, you could cook.") But at level three, that devil is a little bit bigger....and he's buying. And you're thinking "Oh, come on, come on now. As long as I get three hours sleep...and a complete change of blood (snaps fingers), I'm cool.".

LEVEL 4:

Two in the morning. And the devil is bartending. For last call, you ordered a bottle of rum and a Coke. You ARE artificial turf! This time on your way to the bathroom, you punch the stranger at the end of the bar. Just because you don't like his face! And now you're thinking, "Our busboy is the best looking man I've ever seen." You and your friends decide to leave, right after you get thrown out, and one of you knows an ...after hours bar. And here, at level four, you actually think to yourself, "Well....as long as I'm only going to get a few hours sleep anyway, I may as well....STAY UP ALL NIGHT!!!! Yeah! That'd be good for me. I don't mind going to that board meeting looking like Keith Richards. Yeah, I'll turn that around, make it work for me. And besides, as long as I get 31 hours sleep tomorrow ...................cool.

LEVEL 5:

Five in the morning. after unsuccessfully trying to get your money back at the tattoo parlor ("But I don't even know anybody named Ruby!!!"), you and your friends wind up across the state line in a bar with guys who have been in prison as recently as...that morning. It's the kind of place where even the devil is going, "Uh, I gotta turn in. I gotta be in Hell- at nine. I've got that brunch with Hitler, I can't miss that." At this point, you're all drinking some kind of thick blue liquor, like something from a Klingon wedding. A waitress with fresh stitches comes over, and you think to yourself, "Someday I'm gonna marry that girl!!" One of your friends stands up and screams, "WE'RE DRIVIN' TO FLORIDA!!!!!"- and passes out. You crawl outside for air , and then you hit the worst part of level five- the sun. You weren't expecting that were you? You never do. You walk out of a bar in daylight, and you see people on their way to work, or jogging. And they look at you-and they know. And they say..."Who's Ruby?" Let's be honest, if you're 19 and you stay up all night, it's like a victory like you've beat the night, but if you're over 30, then that sun is like God's flashlight. We all say the same prayer then, "I swear, I will never do this again (how long?) as long as I live!" And some of us have that little addition, "and this time, I mean it!"

“A uniform that has been as successful in the courts of Venus as on the field of Mars!”
Song -- COLONEL
When I first put this uniform on,
I said, as I looked in the glass,
“It’s one to a million
That any civilian
My figure and form will surpass.
Gold lace has a charm for the fair,
And I’ve plenty of that, and to spare,
While a lover’s professions,
When uttered in Hessians,
Are eloquent ev’rywhere!”
A fact that I counted upon,
When I first put this uniform on!
Chorus of DRAGOONS

By a simple coincidence, few
Could ever have counted upon,
The same thing occurred to me,
When I first put this uniform on!
-- Gilbert and Sullivan, Patience.

Diarist of the day: Lady Cynthia Asquith, 26 December 1916:
"Great adventure! I did a day's nursing at the Winchcomb Hospital from eight to eight. I went in some trepidation, but I hadn't realised the tremendous effects of a uniform. Directly I stepped into a ward I felt an entirely new being — efficient, untiring and quite unsqueamish — ready to cut off a leg, though generally the mere sight of a hospital makes me feel faint. It's wonderful how right it puts one with the men, too. I feel so shy as a laywoman, but was absolutely at my ease as 'Nurse Asquith'. I loved hearing myself called 'nurse' and would certainly go on with it if I were free."

From a worthy blog: http://www.eamonn.com/

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