These are big words, I know, and I don’t use them lightly. Music was my passport: it was the way I could relate to people from widely differing backgrounds and political ideologies. I met people who approached me after a concert with tears in their eyes, who heard a certain song that reminded them of their back porch and barbeques in the summer; who told me about their wife or son back home, and who invited me into their hearts and thanked me profusely. It was humbling. Red state, blue state: it seems the media would love for us to continue with our political divide. But it is our hearts and souls that connect us as Americans, and this connection comes out loud and clear through music.

I’m not naïve enough to argue that Rock ‘n’ Roll can save the world. But it did make it better for one night: sitting around a bonfire making S’mores with a firefighters unit; EMT’s having a tailgate party on the back of their ambulance; the Military Police escorts that became close friends of mine, and who showed me pictures of their wives and children as we sat through a sandstorm far from our loved ones–these troops regularly face down experiences that run contrary to every human instinct.

War is hell, but modern warfare holds its own unique demons. There are long hours of boredom followed by intense moments of absolute uncontrollable terror; a guerilla enemy who hides among the civilian population, making everyone a possible suspect; Improvised Explosive Devices (IEDs) and other random horrors hidden in every bump of the road; extended tours and frustrating recalls to active duty. The only thought worse than the reality of their situation is imagining what lies behind every corner. Their stress is more than I can bear to think about. And meanwhile their families back home feel the strain of a freefall economy and an unsympathetic civilian community.

For one night we tried to change the balance. We played songs that brought a slice of home to these brave men and women. We tried to remind them of a side of themselves they so often have to overlook.

I am not a celebrity. There was something wonderful about the fact that a normal civilian like myself was welcomed with such open arms and expressions of gratitude. And in the end, this was entirely appropriate, because the troops are the true stars. They are the ones putting their lives on the line. Music was my passport to meet people I never would have otherwise met, people who trusted me and gave me a window into their soul. It reinvigorated my faith in our country, in our ability to be United States, rather than the disparate political factions we are told we’ve become.