This Easter weekend I put a big tick next to one of my bucket list top three.
I didn’t even know it was on the list. Truth be told, I am not even sure I knew I had a list at all.
But this weekend gone I screamed and cried and jumped and danced like there was no tomorrow.
And I touched The Boss. Twice.
I felt wild, carefree and in today’s parlance, completely in the moment.
Five days later and I am still filled with pure happiness. The kind of happiness that money just can’t buy. Well, aside from the few hundred we had to spend to actually get to the concert.
My teenage years were tough. Perhaps not tough in the same way that today’s teenagers have their lives lived through the microscope of social media, but tough none the less.
Wearing a full metal back brace that went from my neck to my butt and back again was not an attractive look, and I was unlucky enough to wear it during some pretty important formative years (13 – 15).
I tended to hide myself away in shame from the rest of the world, and so developed a love of cricket and football through endless hours of sitting perched in front of the TV in a house full of boys.
Then one magic day my friend’s cool dad Roger, introduced me to Bruce Springsteen.
“Here, have a listen to this Al, you might like it”.
The song was The River. This was pre Born in the USA days, pre main stream popularity.
Roge followed up The River with Born to Run. What else was a 13-year-old girl to do but fall in love?
The love affair has lasted over 30 years now. Sometimes it has waned a little, particularly around my 30’s and Bruce’s 50’s when he was MIA for a while and I became Robbie Williams obsessed.
But in my teens, if you met me even briefly, you would probably have learnt three things about me very quickly. I was adopted, I was a mad Carlton supporter (you would have guessed that from the duffel coat and leg warmers. Groan) and The Boss was my main man.
So many days and nights during those teenage years of angst and anger I would retreat to my room, lock the door and load up the cassette player with song after song from every one of Bruce’s albums.
When Dancing in the Dark first aired on Countdown, I cried – how gorgeous and sexy had the reinvented Bruce become?
When Tunnel of Love was released, I rushed out and spent my last $15 on buying the album, despite incurring the wrath of my mother.
And when the 15-year-old me was forbidden from travelling Hobart to Melbourne to see the Born in the USA tour , I thought my life could never be happy again.
Of course it was and I have had quite a few memorable days over the years. Days like our wedding day, birth of our children, Carlton winning the ‘95 Grand Final.
But as we grow older, sometimes we forgot about how much pleasure the simple things in life can give us.
A concert kicked off by a screaming Jimmy Barnes and family. Nothing like a bit of Flame Trees (the husband and I do a great karaoke version) or Khe Sanh to get you warmed up.
Then three hours of non-stop rock n roll from a man you have looked to for answers for more than half of your life.
When I found myself hanging over the barricades, the girls on display as my arms stretched further than they ever have before in a desperate bid to touch him, I felt like I was twenty years old again and boy did it feel fantastic.
I forgot about the kids, the mortgage, the arthritis.
At the end of the night, I had danced for five hours, I had cried, I had shouted and I had screamed “Oh MY GOD” more times than I can count.
Jon Landau, a famous music critic/ producer, said back in 1974 (I used to have this laminated and hanging on my wall. Seriously)
“Last night I saw the future of rock n roll, and it’s name is Bruce Springsteen”.
No longer the future, but all hail the king.
Thank you Bruce, you have made this chick feel blessed.
Cheers till next time,