My mother in law wanted to make sure I saw this: “The mighty E Street Band is here tonight to call upon the righteous power of art, of music, of rock’n’roll in dangerous times. In my home, the America I love, the America I've written about, that has been a beacon of hope and liberty for two hundred fifty years is currently in the hands of a corrupt, incompetent, and treasonous administration. Tonight, we ask all who believe in democracy and the best of our American experiment to rise with us, raise your voices against authoritarianism, and let freedom ring!”
A very good friend and constant reader texted me to be certain that I had not missed it.
A fellow teacher with whom I have worked with for decades sat out front of our school with me and wondered if I had heard these words.
I had. News about Bruce Springsteen doesn't slip past me easily. I am on the lookout for news and updates about The Boss and his music as I have my phone set to let me know whenever there are stirrings somewhere in the swamps of Jersey. Lately most of these notices have been about the release of seven "lost" albums from the vaults, which I await eagerly, but not a tiny bit more than the impassioned words of a man whom I refer to as my "semi-major demigod."
My response to each of those three individuals who lovingly reached out to keep me in the know was the same: "Bruce speaks for me." It was true more than forty years ago when Ronald Reagan began to appropriate what he believed was the patriotic cries of the working man from "Born In The USA," and it's even more true now. Back then, Ronnie said from his campaign stage, “America’s future rests in a thousand dreams inside your hearts. It rests in the message of hope in the songs of a man so many young Americans admire—New Jersey’s own, Bruce Springsteen.” For his part Springsteen, who had kept his politics close to the vest until then, used the next stop on his tour to respond: “Well, the president was mentioning my name in his speech the other day, and I kind of got to wondering what his favorite album of mine must’ve been, you know? I don’t think it was the Nebraska album. I don’t think he’s been listening to this one.” At which point he launched into "Johnny 99," a stark ode to a laid-off auto worker who goes on a killing spree.
Since then, Bruce Springsteen has only grown more impassioned and outspoken about his vision of the land that he loves. He sees the joy. He sees the pain. He sings about the Ghost of Tom Joad. He sang loud enough to be heard by a group called Rage Against The Machine, who covered it and helped make it roar. And right about that time, Bruce turned on a dime to remind us all that we continue to live in "The Land Of Hope And Dreams."
And that was the punctuation he used to complete his statement on the way things are currently going here in that land.
So, yes. I did hear.
Thank you for asking.