The Music Room

This morning as I was driving my twins to middle school, "Good Vibrations" was playing on the oldies station.  The kids often get quizzed on their musical knowledge when riding in the vehicle with mom.  And I asked, "Do you know who this is?"

"No." (Along with eye rolls and maybe a twinge of irritation in the voice.)

"What?!" And then I decided to give them some help.  "Their initials are B.B."

Nothing.

"You don't know who this is? Come on."  (...as I am singing along.)

Still nothing.

"It's the Beach Boys. Have you heard of the Beach Boys?"

At least I got a "yes" from that last question. But I realized that on some level of parenting, I have failed.

Driving home alone afterwards, I thought about my love of the Beach Boys when I was young. We had a "music room" in our house. Eventually this became my own bedroom, but up until I was twelve it was reserved for music...and business. Dad's desk was in there.  But, you know, music and my dad have always went together. This was a good combination.

The room housed dad's desk and file cabinets...but also the piano and a massive entertainment center that covered the south wall. It had everything you could want--record and 8-track players, a radio, huge speakers, and an amazing collection of tape and vinyl.

How many hours did I spend as a child flipping through those record covers and selecting songs? How many hours did my parents spend doing the same? It seems there was always music floating through the house.

Of course, back then we couldn't just select a playlist and walk away to enjoy hours of music in the background of our day. Listening to music was intentional and time-consuming.

Select the record (I can still visualize many of those old album covers.), wait for the previous song to finish, carefully lift the needle, stop the turntable, remove the old record, put the record carefully back in its album sleeve, carefully remove the new record from its sleeve, place it on the turntable, select the appropriate speed for the record, find the track for the song you wish to hear, carefully lower the needle onto the blank groove prior to the song, and wait with anticipation through the snap and pop of vinyl background noise. While listening...start hunting for the next tune you want to hear in the vast collection of albums.

Hours and hours of pleasure! I was so certain that I would be a singer one day.

So, I had my own little collection of 45 singles and full-length albums...including the Beach Boys as well as Jan and Dean. (I was thrilled in college when I got to see Jan and Dean live at Worlds of Fun!)

The music room eventually became my bedroom while the music collection moved out to the living room area. But my room was still always full of music because my parents had instilled that love of song deep within me.

Albums gave way to cassettes. Johnny Cash, Jerry Lee, and Elvis gave way to Prince and Bruce who gave way to a multitude of hair bands.

And (too soon) I left my sweet little music room which had been such a huge and special part of my childhood.

But often in my mind I find myself back in our home at 109 Adams with the music loud and another vinyl record in my hands waiting for the song to finish.

The Concert of a Lifetime

At a little after 4:30 on Saturday, November 17, as we (my sister--Lisa, my husband--Todd, my daughter--Tana, and I) stood in line with our bracelets that identified us as numbers 68, 69, 70, and 71 with about a thousand people who were participating in the general admission lottery system, they finally drew the number of the person who would be first to go into the barricaded area in front of the stage. They were going to allow 500 people in that area. When they drew 54, a shout went up in our section and we looked at each other with shocked faces.  There were hugs, high fives, and multiple congratulations to and from strangers...along with some tears.

At that point, we entered the building--the 14th, 15th, 16th, and 17th people to enter. As we very, very slowly made it around the building (this long line of sequentially numbered people) we listened to the band do it's sound checks. Pretty soon, that included the sweet sound of Mr. Springsteen himself.

But by the time we finally entered the seating area, the stage was clear. We were walked down to the barricade area in an empty stadium. And we walked right up to the railing at the stage.

With lots of time to kill, we struck up a conversation with the couple beside us--Mike and Stephanie.  They had flown in from New Jersey for the concert and were not part of the lottery system. They had connections. I'm not exactly sure what Stephanie's health issues are, but I would guess cerebral palsy. Before the lights were turned down, a security guard came down and handed them their backstage passes. From my conversations with her, it was apparent that she was part of the family.

We waited and visited and took pictures and waited some more.  Finally at 8:30, the lights went out and the band began to take the stage.  Of course, even with the lights down we could see everything going on.  And when the stage lights came on, Bruce was at the front microphone.

They started with the song, "Kansas City". The set list also included 2) Prove It All Night 3) Candy's Room 4) She's the One 5) Hungry Heart 6) We Take Care of Our Own 7) Wrecking Ball 8) Death to My Hometown 9) My City in Ruins 10) The E Street Shuffle 11) Fire 12) Incident on 57th Street 13) Because the Night 14) Cover Me 15) Downbound Train 16) I'm on Fire 17) Shackled and Drawn 18) Waitin' on a Sunny Day 19) Raise Your Hand 20) The Rising 21) Badlands 22) Land of Hopes and Dreams 23) Light of Day 24) My Beautiful Reward 25) Born to Run 26) Dancing in the Dark 27) Santa Claus is Coming to Town 28) Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out.

During that very first song, he made a point to catch Stephanie's eye, smile, and mouth something to her.  After his first harmonica solo, he walked up to her and got down on his knees in front of us to hand her his harmonica. Yes, I put my hand on his thigh at this point...I simply couldn't help myself. Throughout the concert he would point and smile at her, mouth something to her, or walk over beside her. It was very sweet and I found his concern and care for this young lady to be endearing.

With Bruce standing 10-15 feet in front of me for 90% of the concert, I completely forgot that there were thousands of people behind me. (I turned around and snapped this photo before the concert began.) It felt like a private show.

Honestly, my mind was almost numb. It was surreal. I don't even feel like I can recall it very well but my mind keeps replaying pieces of it over and over again. It's a strange thing. I hope that in time it is all processed and I remember it more sequentially. In fact, I took several days to post this because it has been so hard for me to wrap my mind around the whole event.

Completely unconcerned about being a pretty boy, he often blew his nose right onto the stage (Todd calls this a "farmer's blow"). I heard Tana exclaim, "Gross!" more than once.  Between songs he would go dip his face in cold water.  He was sweaty, soaked, snotty, and didn't seem to care a bit. It was all about his music and pleasing his fans.

For part of one song, I don't even know which one right now, he held my hand as he walked by me.  You should know that Todd was quick to point out, "I think that was his snot hand."

When "Dancing in the Dark" was played, he is famous for allowing women on the stage to dance with him. He pointed out a girl and her mother behind us. In fact, they got on the stage in front of me--I was pushing them up as he was pulling them on stage. Yes, we completed a task together. Ha!

I was disappointed with the setlist at the time. There were some songs that I so badly wanted to see and hear. However, as I look at the list now, I realize that it was an amazing concert. With the repertoire of songs that this band has recorded and performed, there is no way that they can possibly play everyone's favorites. In fact, we met a guy from Madrid in line that has been to ten different shows on this tour and assured us that every show is a new experience.

You would never guess that this man is 63 years old.  He crowd surfed during "Born to Run" from the middle of the floor back to the stage, he jumped up and down from the piano, and he squatted down and leaned back clear to the floor and then picked himself back up...like a young man. Of course, his face and body have aged.  However, several times throughout the evening I caught glimpses of a young Bruce when he would lose himself in a song or be simply caught up in the joy of his music. Those moments brought tears to my eyes. Yes, you can tell that he loves his music and his fans. How else could he keep up the rigorous tour of 2012 with it's record length shows and world travel?

Will I go again one day? I hope so. Although I realize that the experience I had a few days ago will never be repeated, I also realize that I would enjoy the perspective of distance where I would see the whole show and not just be focused on Bruce. (There were other band members on stage?)

And besides that, maybe I'd get to hear a little Johnny 99, Seeds, or Darlington County.  (Sigh...)

A Boss Moment

You've probably heard the quote:

"Life is not measured by the number of breaths you take, but by the moments that take your breath away."

Well, I had the wind knocked out of me yesterday.

Rewind...

In 1984-85 I was a freshman in high school. I have recollections of riding a school bus a long distance to participate in some activity (I think it was for band). Along the way there or on the ride back home we stopped at a convenience store. While inside I was elated to find a magazine devoted solely to my favorite singer at the time, Bruce.

You remember Bruce in 1984! Born in the USA was at the top of the charts. His Levi-clad butt was on the wall of many love-struck teenage girls in that poster--including mine. (You know what I'm talking about! I still love Levis!) He danced with Courtney Cox in his Dancing in the Dark video making us all so jealous.

I read that magazine from cover to cover on that bus ride. But part of what made it exciting was that I had a good friend that loved Bruce even more than I did. It was fun to share it with him and talk about all of the stories and pictures. He was an expert on "the Boss" and knew much more about the man than I would ever take the time to learn.

When we got back to the school, it was a mad house. I recall placing all of my things together and leaving them (I think it was to call my parents for a ride home. No cell phones back then!) but when I came back the magazine was gone. I was heart-broken. I remember looking for it and thinking that it might have been stolen. But, it was also windy that day so I realized that it could've just blown away. I was furious...and sad.


It's funny that over the years I have thought about this magazine and wished I still had it. It seemed magical to me for some reason--probably because of the enjoyment it gave me in that very short time that I had it.

But time goes on. I still love the Born in the USA album, though now I listen to it on CD. My 13-year old daughter even recently borrowed it from me to upload to her iPod. (It was a proud moment!) Bruce has went on to make several more songs that I enjoy and he holds a very special place in my heart.

I've enjoyed connecting with new and old friends on MySpace and FaceBook. I love technology so I'm pretty darn accessible--virtually speaking. Recently one of my friends, a classmate from high school, asked me to list my top ten songs by Bruce Springsteen. This was a harder task than I thought it would be. I found myself opening my laptop to listen to many of the tunes as I made the decisions. We then had a good time comparing our lists.

We realized as we exchanged comments, news, jokes, and pictures that he occasionally comes to my city for work-related meetings. I insisted that we have lunch sometime when he is here for the day. He agreed to join me--as long as he could buy. Well, yesterday was the day.

I chose a Mexican food place that I like and gave him directions. As I got out of my vehicle, I saw him right away. He hadn't changed much at all--a little older and wiser, I suppose. But he still had the ornery grin I remembered! I gave him a hug and we entered the restaurant to enjoy an hour of catching up.

Both of us were thrilled to report that we had exceptional children and incredible spouses. Life was good, though it had it challenges. Our careers had evolved, our parents and siblings had gotten older, and our faith in God had deepened. I thoroughly enjoyed myself as I listened to his stories and shared my own. The hour went way too fast.

When it was time to go, I followed him up to the counter to tell him "Goodbye" but he surprised me when he said, "Hold on. I have something to give you." Hmmmm... We walked outside and I had to give him another hug. It was just so darn good to see him and realize what a good man he had turned out to be. He reached into the passenger side of the car and pulled out a manilla envelope. As he handed it to me, he said, "Don't open it until I'm gone."

True to my word, I didn't. But as I drove back to work I opened it up and reached in to pull out (you guessed it) that magazine! I laughed right out loud. He was the one that I had shared my excitement with on the bus that day. He was probably the one, also, who had to listen to my disappointment the most when I realized that it was gone forever.

As I read the heart-felt letter that he included with the magazine, I realized that this silly little theft of a magazine when he was a KID had hurt him way more than it ever hurt me. To him it symbolized his own lack of character. I wasn't the only one that had thought about this magazine over the years, it had eaten at him. My laughter quickly turned to tears. It was a crazy mix of emotions for me as I thought about the impact of this small, senseless act.

It's funny to think about the moments in our life that we remember to define ourselves. It's awesome when we get that little window of opportunity to make up for the mistakes of our past. I'm glad that he jumped through that little window. I'm so glad that I was the one on the other side.

If you're reading, thank you so much for the magazine. It means way more to me now than it ever did (or would've) back then.

Maybe you'll be out there on that road somewhere
In some bus or train traveling along
In some motel room there'll be a radio playing
And you'll hear me sing this song.

Well if you do you'll know I'm thinking of you
and all the miles in between
And I'm just calling one last time not to change your mind
But just to say, "I miss you, baby. Good luck. Goodbye, Bobby Jean."

--Bruce Springsteen, Born in the USA, "Bobby Jean"