Today will be a three-post mega-update. The reason for this is because Hurricane Sandy struck earlier this week, and, while I was able to prep on Monday and write an update early, I was not able to prep for Tuesday because I was without internet and power. I already knew that I was going to write two for Halloween. Turns out it will just be three today. This is the third and final.
This is going to be a personal anecdote about Bruce, coming from me, who many know as the nuttiest of the Springsteen fans. Of course many don’t really know any other big Springsteen fans, but what the hell? I mean, I don’t know many people who have seen the same artist more than a baker’s dozen of times. My brother has seen Bob Dylan twenty plus times. My buddy Erik has seen Bruce twenty plus times. My friend Greg has seen Dave Matthews a whole bunch, I believe. But I don’t know many who know people as devoted as Springsteen fans (of which, I am actually a novice), and for all my excitement and fandom for Bruce, I’ve never met him. I’ve never met anyone in the E Street Band. I’ve never even met fill ins like Charlie Giordiano, Jay Weinberg, or Jake Clemons. I’ve never met Southside Johnny, Vini Lopez, or the rest. In fact, when I went to the concert at Giants Stadium with Erik where we moved from the spot where Bruce crowd surfed, I figured I was doomed to never get a chance to slap Bruce’s sweat coated, shirt covered back while he was belting out some hits. I was wrong. This is my Bruce anecdote.
