Please don't let this be the metephor for my life
First, let me just say the following:
1. Sorry, this is a REALLY LONG post.
2. I’m a girl who believes in synchronicity, fate, and charted paths.
3. I almost met Bruce Springsteen last night.
Okay, so let me get down to the story. It has been my dream for many years to see Bruce Springsteen live and acoustic. I think the man is a genius, and probably one of the best American writers we have. So, I was very excited to get two tickets to see him play acoustic only, at the Paramount Theater in Oakland. A creative dream was becoming real. My boss and friend Julie was going to come with me. We had this planned for a month, but as life happens, especially with a child, she couldn’t go two days before the show. So I called my back up: my dad. He was already huffing and puffing about not being my first choice, and when I found out that he would have loved to go, a little stickie note attached itself in my mind and said: remember this. So I called him 2 days before the show and it was like giving a kid that dream bike that was unaffordable until now. This had some special meaning to me, because I never get time alone with my dad. He’s remarried and has two small kids, and so time alone with my dad is really never an option. I couldn’t be more thrilled.
The day of the concert, I called back my mom, who had been trying to get ahold of me for a couple of days. She sounded busy and I asked where she was, and she told me she was at work: LOADING IN THE BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN CONCERT. For those of you who don’t know, my mom is a roadie for rock bands. She has been building stages and loading in equipment for the best in the business since I was 6 years old. I couldn’t believe it—she was working the show?? I told her I was going to that show with my dad. She informed me that she had just been talking to her buddy George, who was Bruce’s tour manager, about me and my CD. Could I bring a CD with me to give to him? HELL YES.
So here’s another thing: My parents have been in the same room maybe 4 times in the last 20 years. Not only am I going with my dad, but we will see my mother—I will be in the same room with MY PARENTS. This is so strange. At this point I am thinking: what is going on? What is brewing?
The plan is to meet my mom after the show, and then to meet George, and give him the CD. Bruce is leaving right away so I know already I won’t be meeting him.
The show is amazing. I weep without restraint when he plays The River on the piano. It’s like seeing the Grand Canyon for the first time, after having a postcard of it the entire time. It has more depth and beauty than I ever imagined. The lights come up and my dad is blown away and thrilled.
Then we meet my mom at the stage door, and she gives us 2 backstage passes and we are back stage. Inside it’s electric with Bruce’s performance. People are waiting for him to come in. My mom escorts us to the stage manager’s office and tells me that Bruce is not leaving right away, and that she is going to see what she can do about getting him in here. I am strangely cool about this whole scene. I greet some old road buddies of my mom’s that I haven’t seen in 15 years, and then she introduces them to my father. I look at the two of them and can’t believe that this all seems so normal.
I hear Bruce come in the next room, because the crowd that has been milling let out shrill wooping. I could probably go into the next room and see him. Why didn’t I do that?? I am thinking I might be special and see him one on one. I know how it works.
A minute later my mother runs back in and asks if we’re parked in the parking lot across the street, because they are going to lock us in, if we don’t move it. My dad leaps up. I think: if I move from this couch, I won’t meet Bruce. But the angel on my shoulder doesn’t want my dad to go into a dark parking lot at midnight in downtown Oakland. So I ask, “Dad, do you want me to go with you?” He says, “Yeah, come on! Let’s go!” On our way out, I see Bruce’s white limo waiting for him. I know already, that it will be gone by the time we get back. We end up not being able to find any parking. We drive around the neighborhood and find a little pay place and park. We run back to the stage door, and the white limo is gone. The energy that was back stage is gone. Bruce is on his way to catch a plane.
When we leave, I watch my mom and dad hug and exchange: "How are you? You seem great." like they are old friends that haven't seen each other in a long time. They are not the divided people I grew up with, that hated eachother my entire 32 years. I look at them, knowing I am their product. After all is said and done, I still can't make sense of anything.
1. Sorry, this is a REALLY LONG post.
2. I’m a girl who believes in synchronicity, fate, and charted paths.
3. I almost met Bruce Springsteen last night.
Okay, so let me get down to the story. It has been my dream for many years to see Bruce Springsteen live and acoustic. I think the man is a genius, and probably one of the best American writers we have. So, I was very excited to get two tickets to see him play acoustic only, at the Paramount Theater in Oakland. A creative dream was becoming real. My boss and friend Julie was going to come with me. We had this planned for a month, but as life happens, especially with a child, she couldn’t go two days before the show. So I called my back up: my dad. He was already huffing and puffing about not being my first choice, and when I found out that he would have loved to go, a little stickie note attached itself in my mind and said: remember this. So I called him 2 days before the show and it was like giving a kid that dream bike that was unaffordable until now. This had some special meaning to me, because I never get time alone with my dad. He’s remarried and has two small kids, and so time alone with my dad is really never an option. I couldn’t be more thrilled.
The day of the concert, I called back my mom, who had been trying to get ahold of me for a couple of days. She sounded busy and I asked where she was, and she told me she was at work: LOADING IN THE BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN CONCERT. For those of you who don’t know, my mom is a roadie for rock bands. She has been building stages and loading in equipment for the best in the business since I was 6 years old. I couldn’t believe it—she was working the show?? I told her I was going to that show with my dad. She informed me that she had just been talking to her buddy George, who was Bruce’s tour manager, about me and my CD. Could I bring a CD with me to give to him? HELL YES.
So here’s another thing: My parents have been in the same room maybe 4 times in the last 20 years. Not only am I going with my dad, but we will see my mother—I will be in the same room with MY PARENTS. This is so strange. At this point I am thinking: what is going on? What is brewing?
The plan is to meet my mom after the show, and then to meet George, and give him the CD. Bruce is leaving right away so I know already I won’t be meeting him.
The show is amazing. I weep without restraint when he plays The River on the piano. It’s like seeing the Grand Canyon for the first time, after having a postcard of it the entire time. It has more depth and beauty than I ever imagined. The lights come up and my dad is blown away and thrilled.
Then we meet my mom at the stage door, and she gives us 2 backstage passes and we are back stage. Inside it’s electric with Bruce’s performance. People are waiting for him to come in. My mom escorts us to the stage manager’s office and tells me that Bruce is not leaving right away, and that she is going to see what she can do about getting him in here. I am strangely cool about this whole scene. I greet some old road buddies of my mom’s that I haven’t seen in 15 years, and then she introduces them to my father. I look at the two of them and can’t believe that this all seems so normal.
I hear Bruce come in the next room, because the crowd that has been milling let out shrill wooping. I could probably go into the next room and see him. Why didn’t I do that?? I am thinking I might be special and see him one on one. I know how it works.
A minute later my mother runs back in and asks if we’re parked in the parking lot across the street, because they are going to lock us in, if we don’t move it. My dad leaps up. I think: if I move from this couch, I won’t meet Bruce. But the angel on my shoulder doesn’t want my dad to go into a dark parking lot at midnight in downtown Oakland. So I ask, “Dad, do you want me to go with you?” He says, “Yeah, come on! Let’s go!” On our way out, I see Bruce’s white limo waiting for him. I know already, that it will be gone by the time we get back. We end up not being able to find any parking. We drive around the neighborhood and find a little pay place and park. We run back to the stage door, and the white limo is gone. The energy that was back stage is gone. Bruce is on his way to catch a plane.
When we leave, I watch my mom and dad hug and exchange: "How are you? You seem great." like they are old friends that haven't seen each other in a long time. They are not the divided people I grew up with, that hated eachother my entire 32 years. I look at them, knowing I am their product. After all is said and done, I still can't make sense of anything.
posted by Summer Pierre at
2:49 PM
2 Comments:
Metaphores are like bus stops.You can find one on every corner.
If you dont read the signs carefully you could find yourself riding in the wrong diretion.
doesn't strike me as the end to this story...
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