My Evening With Bob Hope


I left my house early tonight to try and beat the oncoming snowstorm and to visit with my mother before going to work. The snowstorm hadn't hit by the time I arrived at my mother's but she had made supper. Pork chops, mashed potatoes (from real potatoes), and a fresh green salad consisting mainly of romaine hearts. It was really quite delicious and after the meal I found myself with nearly 3 hours before having to leave for work. Exhausted, as I had only gotten a few hours of broken sleep earlier in the day, I decided to sleep for a couple of hours.

In what must have been only a few moments I had drifted off quite soundly and found myself standing at the door to an apartment in a very posh hotel. After being greeted and asked in I couldn't help but notice the chandelier over the dining table, the warm glow from teardrop shaped lightbulbs, yet the almost disturbing quiet in the apartment. I was led by a younger woman into the bedroom where I was met by Bob Hope. He was old, quite fragile, dressed as you would expect in an izod sweater, polo shirt, slacks, pacing near the bed. Though quite tired and quiet he smiled welcoming me and appeared to be in good spirits, if somewhat distracted.

Lying on the bed was a very ill Milton Berle. Mr. Hope was concerned and taking care of his close friend in what was obviously Berle's last moments. Berle's magnified eyes twinkled from behind his bulky glasses as he looked at me and smiled his big toothy smile, the only way he could welcome me and show he appreciated my visit as he could no longer speak. He motioned for me to come closer and he took my hand, weakly shaking it then just holding it. I had brought my sister's English Spaniel with me and Berle indicated he wanted to pet the dog as he lay back on the bed sideways, legs dangling to the floor. He patted the mattress several times, Ollie strained against the leash while I looked to Hope to make sure it was okay if Ollie got up onto the bed. Mr. Hope nodded and without saying anything indicated it was certainly fine. Ollie jumped up and began energetically licking Berle's face and hands as he pet the dog and laughed, his big smile growing even larger and he showing just a little more life than I could have guessed he had in him. Ollie settled into Berle's embrace, the embrace of a dying a man, and there displayed a sense of calm across his face and a little sadness from his eyes.

Meanwhile Mr. Hope and I began talking, about what I cannot recall specifically. I can tell you that his words were calming, gentle, kind words of comfort and encouragement. That was the reason for me having come to see him, to talk with him about my growing concerns and fears. Concerns and fears about what, again, I cannot recall specifically. He was able to quell them quite effectively. Even though he continued to be distracted he never showed evidence that he was any less concerned about me than, say, Berle who was just about to expire happy and content with a cuddling English Springer in his arms.

From the living room there were footsteps and then the front door closing. Mr. Hope continued to speak with me, leading us to the balcony of the bedroom. We stepped outside and watched the young woman, who was his daughter, cross a very busy 4 lane street and walk up the stairs outside of a sleazy motel across the street. Even though Hope was caring for Berle and listening to me, he could not hide the fact that at this moment his concern was for his daughter who was making a deal for drugs in a room in the sleazy hotel. At this point I realized I was there just as much to console him, let him know his daughter would be okay and it wasn't his fault or anyone's doing that she was using.

Thus ended my evening with Bob Hope. It was time for me to wake up, shower, and head to work. I can't help but wonder if applesauce would have made a difference....