It really is Magic

The album dropped today. As soon as I got done volunteering in Evan's class I ran to the store to buy it. I ripped it open at a stop sign and eagerly pushed the disc into the slot on the dash.

I have listened 3 times to it now, each time left more in awe of this man's amazing talent, his deep faith, and his quiet, subtle indictment of the current administration, the war, and the political situation in this country.

It was a hot July day in 1984. I was staying with my grandparents. Grandma Sally and I always had a ball together. She would take me to the Y for lap swim, to the University bookstore (where we would check out the guys at Sigma Chi), and out for lunch with her friends. This day, I was in the painting room listening to Rockin' Rick on XL93 and this song came on. I still can't explain it, this connection I felt to the music, to the singer. The melody, the beat, the lyrics ... they all seemed to have been written to me. Like this guy and I had some cosmic connection. I was mesmerized. I waited for Rick to come on and announce who was singing, what the song name was, anything ... and he segued into another song. I ran for the phone and the phone book, explaining to Grandma what I was doing as I dialed. Rick answered and I asked, "Who was that just now? Who was that singing?". And he said the words that changed my life: "It's Bruce Springsteen. He has a new album out, Born in the USA. That was the first single -- it's called Dancing in the Dark."

Bless my grandma. She didn't hesitate when I asked if she could take me to the mall right then. I had some money from babysitting and I needed that tape as I had never needed anything before.

We went to Sam Goody. It was everywhere -- that iconic 80s album cover with the blue jeans, baseball cap and American flag. I remember thinking, "Who IS this guy? Why have I never heard of him before? He MUST be famous -- look at all the promotional stuff."

At home, Grandma and I listened together. I had every word memorized in a couple of hours. I was blown away by the power of that music to stir things in me that I'd never felt before. Like most teenagers, music was part of my life like breathing is. Never had I felt this way about an album, though. When I listened to the title track, I understood (when so many others did not) that it was a protest song about Vietnam. In the songs, I heard about social justice, about racism, about friendship, about the slow death of small town America. I heard my world, but I heard it in a new way -- and that made me see it in a new way.

For Christmas, a friend gave me Born to Run. And then I was hooked. This guy was AWESOME. The band was incredible. The music made me .. well, it made me feel. It inspired me, it made me feel alive, it made me contemplate my life, it excited and soothed me all at the same time.

I started accumulating albums -- in just over a year I had amassed a complete collection of his major releases. I memorized many songs. I learned the names of the guys in the band. I hung a giant poster of Bruce's butt in my bedroom. (My dad was less than thrilled with this. I didn't care.)

When I was in the Army I took a road trip with some friends. We drove from Georgia to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, listening to Born in the USA the entire time. I drove through Darlington County, South Carolina while listening to "Darlington County."

In college I took a course called Rock Music and Popular Culture. There were a total of 4 essay tests. Some required the student to choose one artist and analyze that artist's music -- the prevalent themes, the lyrical style and content, etc. Others asked that the analysis be of one song that exemplifies an artist. Every essay I wrote was about Bruce Springsteen. Every one got an A. When the prof wanted to discuss Bob Dylan's influence on rock music, he mentioned Bruce's first album, saying he was sorry he didn't have a copy to play for us. I raised my hand and asked if he wanted it on tape or vinyl. LOL

I have gone from a giggly 14 year old girl to a 37 year old woman since I fell in love. Bruce's music is the soundtrack of my life. My kids know the songs by heart. His photo hangs in my home, his books sit on the coffee table, the biographies are on the bookshelves in my room. I am never far from his music, and if I am at the grocery store or the mall and one of his songs is played, you can bet I will smile. Every time. There is no one in the world outside of my parents and grandparents, husband and children, who means more to me. Despite the fact that I don't know him in person, will likely never meet him, he is my touchstone. He is strong, opinionated, outspoken, brave, principled ... he inspires me to be those things too, to live my life authentically, to be true to myself above all else.

He is an amazing artist whose influence in my life is immeasurable. I respect and admire him so much.

So. There you have it. My ode to Bruce. And if he should, by some odd twist of the universe, see this little blog post, well, then I simply want to say:

Thanks, Bruce. You and the band are part of my family. Your music is woven into the fabric of my life. I am incredibly grateful that you share your talent and vision with the world. And I'll see you in St. Paul in a month.