Just ran out to Walgreens to pick up antibacterial ointment for the cut on my nose.
Carol wacked me with a broom again. And my sons wonder why I beat her.
Along the way I listened to Springsteen. Heard No Surrender, Jungleland, and Thunder Road.
No Surrender: "Well, we made a promise we swore we'd always remember, no retreat, baby, no surrender."
Jungleland: "The Rangers had a homecoming in Harlem late last night, and the Magic Rat drove his sleek machine over the Jersey state line. Barefoot girl sitting on the hood of a Dodge, drinking warm beer in the soft summer rain. The Rat pulls into town , rolls up his pants, together they take a stab at romance, and disappear down Flamingo Lane."
Thunder Road: "Don't turn me home again, I just can't face myself alone again.......................So you're scared and you're thinking that maybe we ain't that young anymore, show a little faith there's magic in the night, you ain't a beauty, but hey, you're alright, oh, and that's alright with me."
The man is either painting pictures so vivid in your mind, or speaking truths so honest they sting, or projecting defiance to inspire. Beautiful stuff.
All of these stations dedicated to one artist have the fan thing where they come on and play their five favorite songs. They tell stories of what the songs mean and how they came to mean that. It is stunning proof of the magic of music.
The woman playing these songs this morning said, when introducing Jungleland - "This is my father's absolute favorite song." I loved it.
It is so cool when your kids know you in that way. When your relationship transcends the parent thing and crosses over to the human thing. I mean, if you are lucky, the human thing outlasts the parent thing by a long shot. If you are lucky, your kids know the human behind the parent - the vulnerable person who did the best they could to protect and love and - eventually - release the kid.
Music can be the magical bridge to get from here to there.
Fucking amazing.
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