Yesterday, 5 September, I busked again in downtown Edmonds at Veterans Plaza, immediately adjacent to the Saturday Farmers Market. The sun was bright, a slight breeze was wafting through the trees overhead, parking spaces were almost impossible to find, the crowd was thick, and lots of people were settling down on the benches for a bite of lunch.

I played my cornet for more than two hours, and people came up to talk and toss their generous gifts to VFW into my horn case. They set a record for donations whenever I’ve busked there—$186! I always spilt the money equally between VFW Post 1040 in Lynnwood and Post 8870 in Edmonds. I started doing this in 2017.

My busking book contains 91 hit songs, 17 patriotic songs, 9 marches, 8 hymns and gospel songs, and two bugle calls. This time, instead of taking multiple horns, I took only my cornet, the Super Olds that my parents gave me in 1954 when I was a freshman in high school. I played it all the way through college, graduating from the University of Washington in 1962 and then joining the Navy. That’s when I served on the USS Koiner (DER 331) on patrol off the coast of Vietnam in 1966. That made me eligible to become a member of VFW. In 2011, I joined and became the VFW Post 1040 Bugler. That’s the trail that led to yesterday, busking in Edmonds.

It was such fun! A teenage boy walked up in front of me as I played, stood and stared, and after I finished, he then told me he plays trumpet in his high school jazz band. Later, as I thumbed through my book for the next song, I noticed a young girl, about five, her eyes fixed on me, standing at attention about six feet away. “Are you ready?” I said. She nodded. What was she going to do? When I played the first note, she started dancing! Two college-age women came up to talk. “We were way on the other side of the market and heard you playing ‘Summertime.’ We came over to say how much we enjoy your music.” Two young girls, sisters, stood smiling to my right with their mother alongside. They were full of questions about the horn, so I asked if they’d like to play trumpet. Yes. So, I played and held a note, and in glee, they pushed the buttons and changed the notes. Much later, they came back, and the older one was carrying a huge bouquet of flowers from the market. She said she especially loves the huge sunflowers. I asked if she’d like to hear a song about the sun. Yes. So, I found a song in my book and asked her to read the title—“You Are My Sunshine.” She and her mother sang as I played. A Dad, holding his three-year old in his arms, said his son loves the trumpet and wants to play one. I held a note, he touched the buttons, and I pushed down on his fingers to change the notes, his eyes sparkled, and his smile stretched from Edmonds to Boston. Dad was happy and proud to bond with his son over playing music. A tall young man stood to my left and said he had played in the University of Washington’s Husky Varsity Marching Band. He’d heard me playing a favorite song. “If I had my sousaphone,” he said, “I would play ‘Hey, Baby’ with you.” Love that song. And then there was the couple from Mississippi. The husband plays trumpet, and he taught his son to play, too, starting out on a cornet. The son, now in high school, won first chair in the state band! [I was in the Texas All-State Band in 1958.] The proud Mama played for me a video she had made, showing him playing at various ages, culminating in his playing, as a senior, a jazz solo outdoors in a stadium before a huge audience. That’s when I asked her for a favor. “What can I do for you?” “Take my picture.” And she did. It’s the shot under the headline above. As I pondered when to quit, an elderly woman came over. “Love those old songs. I’ve been singing to them all,” she said as she clasped my hand. “I gave you a 20,” she said, as she walked away. That’s how the day went. The donations continued to drop, so I played until my chops wore out.

The first donation was a $1 bill, and the second was a $20, dropped by a woman who came from behind me and said, “Thank you for your service,” as she quickly passed by without stopping. Never saw her face; shouted, “Thank you!” Several parents had their young kids drop bills into the case, teaching them charity. It was interesting how the donations broke down: $60 in 20s, $50 in 10s, $44 in 5s, $4 in twos, and $32 in ones. I came home knowing how decent and wonderfully grateful most Americans, by far, are. God bless America. A day to remember.

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