Anticipation. We all feel it in some way, from the day we’re born.
My first real memory of anticipation is the kind I felt waiting for my father to get home from work. My dad – a man full of sweetness and fun – would drive in the driveway and I would be elated, running to greet him and his wonderful hug and fatherly smell at the front door.
As the years have gone by, I have experienced many different levels of anticipation – waiting to pitch in the big game, waiting to see the first sight of the beach on a summer vacation, and these days, waiting to see my wife when I return home from work.
And although the anticipation of the birth of my children outweighs every other form of anticipation I have ever felt, the anticipation I feel as Bruce Springsteen’s appearance here in DC on his current tour draws near is very exciting and special in it’s own unique way.
Mr. Springsteen, who is 60 to my 48, is an old friend (not a personal one, but you know what I mean), and he has been by my side for over thirty years, longer than I have known virtually anyone I still keep in touch with or know today. He has seen me through the most joyful of times, and has helped me endure the most sorrowful ones. The emotions he conjures up with his words and music give me so much joy, that the level of anticipation I feel as tonight’s Verizon Center show approaches is simply exhilarating.
The experience of seeing Springsteen live began for me in the last row of Madison Square Garden in New York in 1978. Even high up in the rafters of that cavernous arena, he touched my soul with his evocative lyrics and exhilarating presence, and it’s been like that at every one of the many shows I have seen him perform since. It’s hard to describe a Springsteen concert if you haven’t seen him, or aren’t familiar with the power and glory of his music.
But deep down, it goes way beyond just a concert. In fact the thirty years of being a Springsteen fan have been about way more than just his music. It’s about the unique intimacy he feels towards us as fans, and what we give back to him.
“At this point, I’m in the middle of a very long conversation with my audience,” he said recently in an interview with Rolling Stone magazine. “It’s an ongoing dialogue about what living means. I can’t do it by myself. I need my audience. It’ll be a lifelong journey by the time I’m done.”
And that’s what it’s been, virtually a lifelong journey with Bruce at the wheel, and me riding shotgun, talking the whole way. And when he pulls into town tonight, it will be great to sit in the front seat with my old friend, and turn the radio up real loud again. It might be the last time we ride together, there are rumors that this tour may be the E Street Band’s last. And if that is the case, he has given me some of the greatest joy I have ever felt in my 48 years. And I still have the upcoming show to look forward to.
Anticipation. Isn’t it great?