Been There, Done That

by Al Roker Deborah Roberts

  But for me the life-changing moment happened the next day, in the small family church where Robin and her two sisters, Dorothy and Sally-Ann, and her brother, Butch, said their final good-byes to their cherished mom. The funeral was simply a heart-stirring love letter written about a life well lived. Robin and her siblings shared tears, humor and spiritual lessons gained from their mom. I sat on a small wooden pew with George Stephanopoulos, Diane Sawyer and the president of ABC News, Ben Sherwood, overcome not with sadness but with joy and feelings of hope and happiness . . . all hallmarks of Lucimarian’s legacy. Like the funerals I had attended in Perry, it was called a homegoing and was all about joy for a weary soul who was going home to God.

  Though she was shockingly gaunt and no doubt weak from exhaustion, Robin stood firm and strong, gracefully enduring the harsh blows that had come her way during this past year or two, quoting a number of Lucimarianisms . . . simple sayings her mother famously uttered about humility, prayer and love of God.

  Robin told how her mom often cautioned against hubris, saying, “If you strut, you fall.” And there was her mom’s view that bad things don’t happen “to you” but “for you” so you can learn something and deepen your faith.

  In death, Lucimarian was still the loving mom, offering me and everyone else the kind of warm, lasting life lessons that my mom, now suffering with dementia, is no longer capable of sharing. And even in her weakest moment, her youngest child, Robin, was extraordinary. Oddly, I left Lucimarian’s funeral feeling blessed and happy, filled with unexplainable joy and hope. Somehow I felt at peace as I considered this beautiful woman’s life of love and giving—the only things in life that truly matter.

  Weeks later, Robin had her surgery. I remember the date, September 20, because it was my birthday. When I visited her in the hospital, somehow she always managed to smile and cheer up the rest of us, who were shedding a few tears behind the protective hospital face masks we were ordered to wear so we didn’t risk getting Robin sick.

  She had lost her hair and she appeared to be very weak, yet when I saw her, she remained unbelievably positive and determined to beat her disease. In her heart, she knew that God was going to get her through yet another tough time. And somehow, I knew it too. She has a special angel looking after her.

  Two years later, Robin is going strong, still helping all of us to laugh, love, learn and yes . . . live life to its fullest. Recently, during a tough week, I called and wondered if she had time for coffee.

  I was feeling especially low.

  My mom was sick with a respiratory illness, and I had been on the phone morning and evening with her caregivers. Leila, now a typical teenager, was often surly and angry. (That week we were at odds over her curfew.) And at work I was clashing with an exhausting and bullying male colleague (yes, they still exist in my business) and I had just been overlooked for a big assignment I’d desperately wanted. I was furious when it went to a less experienced reporter. Other than Al, there aren’t many people I trust with such personal and professional frustrations. But Robin and I have shared many confidences over the years. Without hesitation she named a place and time, and as always, offered me her unwavering support and wise advice. She too had hit many bumps at ESPN and early on at ABC. “I know what you’re dealing with, but hang tough,” she advised. “You’re talented and strong. That will win out. Life can be hard, but I guarantee if you poured your problems on a table along with everybody else’s, you’d probably take yours right back.” Of course, she was absolutely right, and in that moment, I knew her mother had passed those wise words of wisdom along to Robin somewhere along the way.

  Sometimes I almost feel embarrassed to share my small struggles with Robin, who has truly seen some of the darker and more challenging sides of life. Yet she is quick to point out that there’s no measurement on suffering.

  I am grateful and blessed to have such a wise and generous friend in my life. Robin is a strong reminder that we all cope with burdens and trials. They often bring out our best selves, but even if they don’t, they have something to teach us, if we pay attention.

  AL

  Boots on the Ground

  Back in the day, your family would gather ’round the television and watch the “boob tube” together. It could have been I Love Lucy, The Diahann Carroll Show, I Spy or The Carol Burnett Show. For us baby boomers, the blue glow of the television was the communal hearth around which we parked our “rusty dusty,” as my mom called it, and let the entertainment wash over us.

  One of the shows I most vividly remember was the annual Bob Hope Christmas Show on NBC. For much of my youth, it recorded his annual trip to Vietnam to entertain the troops. I loved watching him prowling the stage, firing off one-liners, swinging his ever-present golf club and introducing Raquel Welch or another hot actress of the day, saying, “Wanted to remind you boys what you’re fighting to protect back home.”

  Bob Hope was the face of the USO tour for many years. Countless entertainers crisscrossed the country and the globe performing for our troops, but for almost fifty years, no one was as closely associated with the USO tour as Bob Hope.

  I always wondered what it would be like to travel to a war zone and take part in one of those tours. My desire to do so was heightened when my buddy Matt Lauer and I did the Today show from Camp Eggers in Kabul, Afghanistan, back around Thanksgiving 2007. We saw firsthand the sacrifices our troops make, protecting our freedoms 365 days a year, twenty-four hours a day. It was there that I overheard a couple of soldiers talking about how much they were looking forward to an upcoming USO show.

  After that it was my dream to shine a light on our military troops as frequently as possible, while also supporting the USO and its efforts to help our amazing servicemen and – women, as well as their families. We can never totally repay them for all they have done for us over the years, but what an honor to help the USO bring a little bit of home to our troops wherever they are.

  In early October 2014, my dream became personal when the Today show launched its first Today USO Comedy Tour.

  To make it a truly legitimate USO Comedy Tour, you need comedy. Someone who is instantly recognizable and funny. Someone whose name is synonymous with comedy. Once we had that, we knew others would jump on board.

  As much as I like to think I can get off a powerful zinger every now and again, I’m certainly nowhere close to the likes of a Bob Hope and not even in the same room when it comes to doing professional stand-up comedy. If we were going to do this, we needed a giant in the comedy world. Someone in that same pantheon as Bob Hope. My producers and I batted around names, and then someone said, “What about Jay Leno?”

  Jay Leno! Who’s bigger than Jay? He was perfect! He is comedy, the stand-up comic’s comic. Legendary Tonight Show host, car aficionado and a guy who’d already done a number of USO tours.

  Surely there was no way we could get Jay. (I’ll pause while you say, “Please don’t call me Shirley.”) (And now you know why I could never lead the tour!)

  But I figured, you don’t ask, you don’t get.

  I somehow got the number for the garage where he spends most of his time since stepping down from The Tonight Show. After the third ring, a voice familiar to millions of late-night audiences answered.

  “Hey, it’s Jay.”

  And Jay not only said yes, but he told me whenever we needed him, he was in and he was bringing his former bandleader, Kevin Eubanks, as well.

  THIS . . . WAS . . . HUGE!!!!

  With Jay in our pocket, everything fell into place.

  One of the hottest comics out there today, Iliza Schlesinger, immediately said yes, and then movie star/TV star/musician/comedian Craig Robinson jumped on board as well.

  With the talent lined up, I flew thirteen hours from New York to Dubai, where I met up with Jay, Craig, Iliza and Kevin. From there we flew about four more hours to Bagram Air Force Base in Afghanistan, to perform for
more than twelve hundred American troops.

  We landed early in the morning and deposited our belongings in the barracks, which stood behind twelve-foot-tall, three-foot-thick cement blast shields reinforced with rebar. Then we went to have lunch in the commissary with the troops. It looked like any other cafeteria except all the customers had automatic rifles and wore camo gear. Come to think of it, it sounds a lot like one of my family reunions!

  After that we headed over to a giant hangar from where we’d be broadcasting the Today show followed by the USO Comedy Tour. For four hours, the gang shook hands, took pictures and kibitzed with the troops nonstop, taking breaks only to do some Today segments. We were just finishing that up and getting ready to do our USO show, when the reality of life in Afghanistan hit hard.

  As shocking as it may sound, I had no idea what our soldiers’ lives are really like in active duty until I saw it with my own eyes. Sure, I knew they battled these awful elements I didn’t want to think about, and I knew they put their lives in danger every day, but I don’t think I truly understood the hostile environment they face with such bravery until I was on the air base watching shells explode overhead.

  When we first arrived, we were warned that if we heard one siren blast, we should hit the deck.

  Two blasts, you run for the bunkers.

  Three meant all clear.

  Now this plaintive wail of a siren seemed to come from out of nowhere. The folks with us yelled out to hit the deck. We all dropped to the ground right where we were, and suddenly the deafening sound of a giant anti-missile gun started blasting. After thirty seconds or so, silence, then two blasts, and suddenly I’m being dragged up and out toward a reinforced bunker, where we waited for around ten minutes till we heard the all-clear sound.

  Wow.

  The soldiers told me that happened several times a week, sometimes more than once a day.

  That’s life at Bagram. And that’s why we were there. To try to block that reality out for our brave soldiers for just a little while.

  So then it was showtime. For the next two and a half hours, we brought laughter, music and joy to this amazing group of soldiers who deserved it more than anyone else I could think of at that moment. I never understood the profundity of the saying “’Tis far better to give than to receive” more than I did during that tour.

  Giving of myself to those who put themselves in harm’s way every single day was an absolutely life-changing experience—one I didn’t see coming. I had patriotically and spiritually supported the troops for years. I always sought out military families on the plaza, for example, and put them on the air whenever possible as my small gesture of support for the troops. Yet, within hours of our arrival, I had a completely different understanding of what these brave men and women had done, sacrificed and given of themselves—for my freedom and yours. It was the kind of appreciation I could never achieve without witnessing it in my own boots-on-the-ground experience. Working in news for as many years as I have, I couldn’t conceive the kind of understanding I now had of our servicemen and – women without the kind of eyewitness coverage that being at Bagram gave me.

  I couldn’t hold back my tears that first night as I crawled into my bed. I was incredibly grateful to all the fearless men and women who serve our country and unbelievably appreciative for the opportunity to be there. I was also feeling terribly guilty, knowing I would be going home in twenty-four hours to see my wife and kids.

  You can bet I hugged everyone a little tighter than usual when I got back to New York. I was never in the military, but I would certainly have a different filter going forward whenever I’d hear stories about time people spent serving our country.

  Age and wisdom don’t necessarily come together, but perspective always follows experience.

  Freedom comes at a cost.

  The people who help pay that cost are the servicemen and – women of our armed forces and their families. Here at home and all across the globe, they protect us.

  They serve us.

  They keep our freedom secure.

  One of the most visible parts of the USO is the USO entertainment tours. The smiles and laughs and appreciation on the faces of those servicemen and – women brought warmth to our hearts. After our first show, one of the soldiers came up to me and said, “God bless you. For two and a half hours, I forgot where I was.”

  And that to me was the definition of irony. They kept thanking all of us for taking the time to be there when in fact it was our purpose for being there—to thank them for all they do—that made our presence pale in comparison.

  The whole experience gave me chills and an endless willingness to offer a hug in gratitude.

  That is the point of the USO. Whether it’s a comfortable place to be as they transit between assignments, or help figuring out a problem with family back home, for more than seventy years, the USO has provided a safe haven—physically and emotionally—for our troops.

  By supporting the USO, we support our troops. And by supporting our troops, we support the mission to keep this nation and its ideals free.

  That’s why I made the “Rokerthon,” a fund-raiser for the USO, during which I set the world record for the longest uninterrupted weather report broadcast.

  The idea for the Rokerthon was born in October 2014, when Natalie Morales reported on a woman in Norway who’d allegedly broken the Guinness World Record with a thirty-three-hour live weather broadcast. When I heard the report, I flippantly said, “I can do that.”

  I didn’t think anyone would take me up on it!

  At the end of the broadcast that morning, our executive producer called a meeting and said, “So, you’re going to break the record?”

  At first I didn’t know what he was talking about. But then I said, “Sure, why not? As long as we raise some money for the USO in the process.”

  • • •

  We decided to start the Rokerthon at ten p.m. on Wednesday, November 12. It was on MSNBC at the top of The Last Word with Lawrence O’Donnell, and I hoped to break the record at eight a.m. Friday, November 14, during the Today show.

  Little did I know what a major undertaking it would be—for everyone. We needed a special team of producers, social media people, crew, official witnesses from Guinness, and lots of other details no one had considered when we said we were in.

  But we pulled it together. Dotted our i’s and crossed our t’s.

  Well . . .

  One little thing: I forgot to tell Deborah. Oh, sure, a month or so earlier I had mentioned I was thinking about doing this stunt to raise money for the USO, but neglected to share one or two details . . . like the actual date—or even that we were, in fact, doing it!

  So the weekend before, as we’re going through our calendars, I happened to just sort of toss out, “Oh, and of course I’ll be live on the air from Wednesday till Friday, doing Rokerthon, so I won’t—”

  I never got a chance to finish my sentence.

  Deborah went ballistic!

  “YOU WHAT?

  “When were you going to tell me this? What plans have you made? You can’t just get up there and be live for three days straight. Are you insane?”

  I wasn’t sure which question to answer first. But I did realize a good rule of thumb: Before embarking on a potentially dangerous stunt on live TV, tell your significant other. They have this wacky idea that they want to be “in the loop”! You would think that after twenty years of marriage I would have known this by now.

  Thanks to Deb’s well-placed outrage, I actually sought some medical advice and got clearance from NBC’s medical director, Dr. Tanya Bensimon. I was told to stay away from caffeine early on, stay hydrated, bank sleep leading up to the event. Try to keep carbs to a minimum and eat higher-fat and higher-protein snacks. Save a necessary caffeine jolt for the last hour or so if I absolutely need it. Of course I would need it! I was going to
be on the air for thirty-four straight hours! I was thinking a jolt of caffeine wasn’t going to be enough! Maybe a caffeine drip?

  A few days before the event, we learned that the Norwegian record still hadn’t been verified. That left the standing record at twenty-four hours, and I would have to broadcast for only twenty-four hours and one minute to set a new record. In fact, when I was covering Hurricane Sandy, I was on the air for forty-eight hours, but because of the very strict rules surrounding setting a Guinness World Record, that broadcast didn’t qualify me for the record book. This time I wasn’t taking any chances. If the Norway record somehow became real, I wanted mine to beat it, so I was going all the way.

  As they say, go big or go home!

  To officially set the record, the rules were very specific.

  1. I had to talk only about weather for the entirety of my broadcast.

  2. I could talk about current weather and weather seven days in the past or seven days ahead.

  3. For every sixty minutes completed, I was given a five-minute break. The breaks could be carried over and combined, so if I went four hours without stopping, I could take a twenty-minute break.

  4. Two independent witnesses had to be there at all times.

  Once we were on the air, the only moment I doubted I could do it was after the first fifteen minutes. It was the same feeling I had in the first mile of the New York City Marathon. I remember thinking as I ran up the Verrazano Bridge, “What the hell am I doing?” And then I got past the midpoint of the bridge and started running downhill, calmed down and just kept going. The exact same thing happened to me during the broadcast. Fifteen minutes in, I thought, “I cannot do this. I have thirty-three hours and forty-five minutes to go! How am I going to fill the time?”