Basement Songs Rewind: Coldplay, "Fix You"

The 2015 Valencia Great Strides is a little over a month away. Among the things I want to do this year (including personally thanking everyone who donates-- sorry!) is repost some of my CF related posts and columns from the past years.

This year is kind of exciting because Jacob and I are working on a special fundraising video that we hope to have completed this weekend. Fingers crossed,

Anyway, here is a 2011 BS entry for Coldplay's "Fix You." Every time I hear this song, it's hits me with an emotional wallop, especially the live version. This entry ran in April of that year, so there are references to the Indians already playing winning baseball (they would finish 80-82 that year, bleh).

Thanks for reading.

Aloha

Here are two phrases I never thought I’d say in this year: “The Indians swept the Red Sox” and “Cleveland is in first place.” Hope springs eternal each spring when Major League Baseball begins its season. We fans are optimistic even when our team is mid-market and does not have the gargantuan payroll of ESPN favorites like the Yankees and Phillies. A scrappy group of aging vets and wet behind the ears youngsters can show the world that you don’t have to be the richest team to succeed; you can develop talent in the farm leagues and make savvy trades. Yeah, that’s what we fans of smaller market teams tell ourselves each year before the first pitch is thrown.

Springtime is a season full of hope in our household, not just for sporting reasons. The spring also marks the time of year when the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation holds their annual Great Strides walk in our hometown of Santa Clarita, CA. For those of you who have read the Basement Songs over the years, you know why Great Strides is significant to the Malchus family (and the Popdose staff). My son, Jacob, has cystic fibrosis (CF).

CF is a life threatening illness that creates a thick, sticky mucus in the body. This mucus clogs the lungs, creating the potential for infections. It also blocks the pancreas, preventing it from releasing the enzymes he needs to absorb nutrients. There is no cure. Each day, Jacob undergoes three breathing treatments with a nebulizer and dons a chest vibrating device called “The Vest.” He also takes oral enzymes with each meal to ensure that he stays strong and healthy. It’s a hell of a lot for anyone to live with, let alone a spirited nine-year-old boy who just wants to be “normal.” Jacob handles most of his daily routines in stride, although his anger and frustration has risen steadily over the past year.

Each year our family organizes a team of walkers for our local Great Strides. We call ourselves “Team Jacob.” Among the efforts we’ve done in the past is edit short videos to introduce people to Jacob and this dreaded disease. It’s an effective tool, sometimes too effective. Jacob’s big sister, Sophie, can no longer listen to George Harrison’s “Here Comes the Sun” and Bruce Springsteen’s “Workin’ on a Dream,” songs we used in previous videos. Hearing those classic tracks remind her of the images we pieced together and hurt her heart too much. I know how she feels. A couple of years ago a family we know used Coldplay’s “Fix You,” as a part of their campaign and from now on that song will always be associated with CF and that family. Listening to this live version of the song is even more powerful, with the audience singing along with Chris Martin, as I imagine the combined efforts of all CF families and their friends singing as one.

It’s become our tradition to hold a gathering at our home after each Great Strides walk. This is the least we can do to thank our friends and family for joining us in the morning walk and helping support our cause. Over the years our team has grown. In addition to my brother and his family, Julie's brother, Seann, the Cruz family and our neighbors, the Wills, school friends like the Conards, the Boss family and the Stinsons have been there for us. There is also my high school buddy, Jay, and of course, my parents, who drive out from Tucson each year. 2011 was also special because Julie’s mom and dad were visiting from Ohio and were able to experience it with us. I dream of someday having all of the good people who have helped us over the years to come out and join us. As inviting as our small ranch style house is, I don’t think they’d all fit.

Our little party was festive, with music playing in the kitchen, kids running around and tackling each other between belly laughs, pizza and beverages for everyone, and a game of corn hole for all who wanted to play. Meanwhile, with free MLB games on television all weekend, a small group of men sat in the living room and watched the Indians take on the Seattle Mariners. As I’m accustomed to doing during these get togethers I wandered between the small groups and took in bits and pieces of conversations. I sometimes can’t believe how blessed we are to have so many people who care about the welfare of our family. I must admit, though, that I kept getting drawn into the living room, where my brother, my dad and my father-in-law were all enjoying the baseball game.

The Indians are in first place.

What a great feeling for a Cleveland fan. Still, I’d make a major league trade of all the joy I receive from watching my favorite baseball team win some games if I could fix my son’s illness. As much as I like hearing that the Indians are in first, I’d love to hear a different phrase, one that goes like this:

CF stands for cure found.

If you would like to help the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation, you can visit this link to make a donation.

Originally published on Popdose, April 17, 2011

These Hard Tears

Let's get back into this, shall we. Let's lay it on the line, put our hearts out there, and tell it like it is. 2014 has rolled over on us and here it is, the middle of the month, and I've been married for 20 years, I have a teenage daughter one year away from driving and my mom's birthday has come and gone. The long month of December- and it is a long month- is in the rearview mirror and now it feels like maybe, just maybe, we can begin to move forward with the new year.

Well, perhaps tomorrow.

Today would have been Seann's 32nd birthday.

I've been standing in our kitchen, washing dishes and listening to a new Springsteen track, "The Wall." It hails from his latest album and it's the best song on the record. Dare I say it's one of his very finest? I will. It ranks up there with his most haunting songs like "Shut Out the Lights" and "Brothers Under the Bridge." Like those two, "The Wall "deals with the Vietnam War and the scars of that era. Unlike those two, there is an added layer of poignancy and regret in "The Wall," as Bruce sings about personal friends who died in Vietnam. "The Wall" is so beautiful, it's worth owing the new album just to have this song. Although, I guss you could just purchase the song from iTunes.

 

Because "The Wall" deals with the pain and grief of losing of a loved one, I can't help but think about Seann. His life was ripped away from us. Will this sorrow ever lift? I pray for a time when we once again celebrate life on Seann's birthday and not the loss of it.

 

I'm listening to''The Wall," and the tears are leaking from my eyes and I just want to scream, ''FUCK!"

''FUUUUUUUCK!"

Fuck.

If that offends you, I apologize, But sometimes there's nothing better than a good F-Bomb. Except that in this case it doesn't help very much. It only brings more tears, anger and saddness.

 

Tonight we're drinking champagne in honor of Seann. It's our little tribute to him, in memory of the night he first arrived in California and together, with Budd and Karyn, we went through three or four (possibly five) bottles of champagne. He was a champion that night. He'll always remain a champion in our hearts.

Tomorrow we move forward. As for tonight, we'll sit and recall his love, laughter and kindness, as we polish off another bottle of champagne. 

Bruce Springsteen - New York City Serenade (Rome 7/11/13)

My love affair with Springsteen's music really began in the mid-90s, as I dug deeper into his back catalog. I stumbled across some bootlegs from his early years, one of which contained an alternate version of "New York Serenade" that is just as good as the released version on The Wild, the Innocent and the E Street Shuffle. I've never heard "New York Serenade" in concert; it's one of those rarities (like "The Price You Pay") that I pray will show up each time I see the boss, but never does.

Now I can say I've heard a live version, at least.

This is my favorite song from Springsteen's sophomore effort (which he released in late 1973... 40 years ago!). There are more popular tracks on the album, and others that have more complex lyrics, but "New York Serenade" tugs at my heart like none of those other songs. When the rest of the band fades out at the end and it's just David Sancious's piano and strings there are always tears in my eyes.

This video, shot in Italy this past July, is sublime. Watch the string section (man what a nice touch) and they way their faces light up during the pivotal moments of the song. The joy on their faces to be playing this classic song and to be on stage with Springsteen is a sight to behold.

Enjoy!

Popdose Rewind: AC/DC, "If You Want Blood (You Got It)"

Today is Free Comic Book Day, which has become a tradition in our house. In honor of getting up early with my son and heading to our favorite local comic store, here is Basement Song post I wrote for Popdose in 2010.
 
Each year the movie industry tries to push up the start of summer by opening their big event movies earlier in the year.  Used to be that Memorial Day was the weekend that kicked off the season. Now it feels like mid-April is when the studios begin pushing their big blockbusters. Pretty soon it’ll be summer year round and the only way to see small indie films will be through video on demand or Netflix. For me, the summer officially begins the first Saturday of May. Throughout the country that day is Free Comic Book Day at the local comic shops. This Saturday, May 1^st, Jacob and I will head on over to Brave New World, the excellent comic store we frequent, getting caught up in the  zaniness the proprietors will serve up that day. Raffles, baked goods, discounts, Stormtroopers and droids, and of course, free comic books.

I’m so happy that my son has become enamored with this art form. It’s one way that the two of us bond separately from his sister and mother. I once took Sophie to Free Comic Book Day. She was patient, God bless her, but after about twenty minutes she began eyeing the front door, hoping to exit. Jacob is a lot like me; he likes to browse. He takes his time examining as many of the comics as he possible before determining just which one to buy. This was my method perusing the aisles of record stores twenty-five years ago. To this day, on those rare occasions when I’m in Hollywood and visit the massive Amoeba Records, I can spend a good hour looking at everything before finally heading to the bin with the album I originally planned to buy. I suppose I’m not that different than any other collector.

Perhaps someday Jacob will want to visit Amoeba, one of the last independent record stores. If his love for music becomes an obsession like his love for super heroes, soon enough we’ll be marking Record Store Day on our calendar each year, too.

Music, of course, is another area where the two of us have a special bond. Although Jake is well rounded and likes all genres, he seems to lean toward the harder edged music when it’s just the two of us, knowing he can crank up the volume. It’s not hard to imagine the day when Jake is a teenager speeding up the driveway singing at the top of his lungs and beating the steering wheel in time with the drums, while the car vibrates from the bass of some hard rocking band,.
That’s one aspect of summer I look forward to year round: cruising in my car around the neighborhood, through the city streets or down the highway with the music loud, the wind pounding on my face and not a care in the world. This universal feeling of freedom goes back to my adolescence, to the days of the Whomobile. It was a time when my friends and I would motor through the Cleveland Metroparks, the Valley, with no particular place to go, just enjoying the camaraderie, the sunny days, and the girls out tanning or playing Frisbee.
And the music.

Tom Petty, the Who, Zeppelin, the Georgia Satellites, Van Halen, the Outfield, Peter Gabriel, Springsteen and Rush. The music made the moment; the people made the memories.
Each summer there were always one or two songs that defined the year. One year it was “Don’t Come Around Here No More;” another year it was the one two punch of “Heartbreaker”/”Living Loving Maid” These summer songs weren’t sought; they leapt at you and sank their deep hooks into your heart. At that time radio played an important role in introducing me to great music. Now I rely on my iPod and the cornucopia of albums my friends have recommended and sent to me. Thank God for my iPod. I never would’ve given AC/DC a chance past their hit songs; I never would have heard “If You Want Blood (You Got It)” from their 1979 album, Highway to Hell.

Angus and Malcolm Young are in sync, creating another one of their killer guitar riffs, with Angus going off on two solos. The rhythm section of bassist Cliff Williams and drummer Phil Rudd keep the number chugging along with the power of a locomotive. Bon Scott’s gravely voice drips with the appropriate mix of anger and disgust. Mutt Lange’s production stays out of the way, letting AC/DC’s meat and potatoes approach to rock ‘n roll keep the song genuine, capturing the band in their prime. Simply put, this song f’n ROCKS!

As the weekend approaches my anticipation grows. I can’t wait to spend the morning with Jake, shopping for comics and witnessing fanboy mania up close; I can’t wait for our customary lunch at Wendy’s when we’ll pour over the stash we picked up; and I can’t wait to introduce him to one kick ass AC/DC song, driving around with the windows down, the wind blowing our hair and our fists raised high as we welcome in the summer.

originally published April 29, 2010 on POPDOSE

Popdose Rewind: The Gaslight Anthem, "The '59 Sound"

This weekend I'm driving up to Ventura to see the Gaslight Anthem perform live at the Ventura Theater. The Gaslight Anthem are a Jersey band whose influences range from Stax soul to the Clash, as well as a guy named Bruce Springsteen. It was because of Springsteen that I was initially interested in their music, but I soon became a huge fan of their work. The '59 Sound was the album that put them on the map in 2008, and they've release two others, American Slang in 2010 and Handwritten which came out last year. The latter is particularly strong.

In honor or seeing the band this weekend, here is the Basement Songs column I wrote about "The '59 Sound" back in November of 2008.

Back in January, I wrote a special Basement Song column dedicated to my daughter, Sophie, on her
birthday.  Tomorrow, November 14, is my son Jacob's birthday, and I now I want to dedicate something to him.

When it came time to choose a song to focus on, I couldn't help but return to a number that he and I bonded over recently.  Some of you loyal readers to Popdose may cry foul over using this Gaslight Anthem song twice in less than a month.  See, I reviewed their album in October and actually featured today's song. However, it was through my repeated listens to The '59 Sound, and the title track of the album, that Jacob became familiar with the song.  When I was contemplating what to say to Jacob for his birthday, this song's melody kept coming back to me.  I took that as a sign to forgo the tearjerker I was going to write about and keep this post in the rocking spirit of my son.  Thanks for reading.

Jacob,

When thinking of what to write today I contemplated reflecting on your rugged journey into this world. The days you spent in the neonatal intensive care unit, the concern that you needed surgery, the sudden helicopter ride that flew you from peaceful Burbank to the noisy and crowded UCLA hospital,, and finally bringing you home with us just in time for Thanksgiving, yes, a lot happened during the week you were born, so much that much of it is a blur to your father. I spent so much time driving in my car going to and from home to the hospital to your aunt and uncle's that you'd think I could recall some melody from that period in late 2001. But I can't.

The more I think about it, though, the more I think this is a good thing. I don't want to dwell on the heartache or the pain; I don't want to dwell on cystic fibrosis, or breathing treatments or the number of pills you have to take each day. No, today I just want to say how blessed I am that you're my son. 


In the past year or so, the two of us have begun to develop our own special relationship, one different from the one your sister and I share. From trips to the comic store to watching cartoons, from Star Wars to Spider-man, I've witnessed a kindred spirit come to life inside you. Knowing that you appreciate and love the same cultural things I have treasured my entire life is thrilling. And of course, there is the music. The two of us have a shared affinity for the same type of driving rock and roll that gets your feet pounding and your head bobbing up and down.

It began with the Boss.Who knows how many hours you spent watching the E Street Band Live in Barcelona concert prancing around the living room strumming your ukulele and singing the lyrics to The Rising. It was so many that it influenced the way you hold the guitar.Because you were mirroring Springsteen's image on the television, you now only feel comfortable carrying an axe in the lefty mode. You quickly connected with the Ramones, too, which is a funny group for a little boy to latch on to. It began with "Now I Wanna Be a Good Boy" featured on What's New Scooby Doo, then "My Brain Is Hanging Upside Down (Bonzo Goes to Bitburg)" in School of Rock, and finally "Rockaway Beach" showing up in Rock Band. 

It shouldn't come as a surprise that you would take a liking to the one-two punch of the Ramones. Punk isn't necessarily a music form as much as it's an attitude. Punk is independence. Punk is standing up to the system ("sticking it to the man" as Jack Black would say). Punk is finding beauty in the crap the world throws at you. It shouldn't surprise me that you enjoy punk stylings because you, my son, are punk.Y ou're strong, independent, fierce, empathetic and forgiving despite everything you go through. Most important, you are a true individual.

I could have easily chosen a Ramones song or one of Springsteen's masterpieces to dedicate to you on your 7^th birthday had it not been for what happened last Saturday night. The two of us were on our way to McDonald's and I dialed my iPod to the title track from the Gaslight Anthem's album, The '59 Sound. As the band ripped into this raucous rocker, I looked into the rearview mirror and caught you staring out the window, nodding your head to the rhythm and the beat of this great song. I had played "The '59 Sound" for you a couple of times and you had smiled. However, it's sometimes hard to tell if your child actually likes the songs you're playing for them or if they're just trying to make dad happy. When I stole that glance driving down the street, you were in your own world, rocking out. The moment was pure. My influence wasn't present, just you in sync with the music.

Later that night, while washing dishes, I played "The '59 Sound" once again, thinking I was alone. You strolled into the kitchen, dressed in your pajamas, ready for bed.

"Hey, daddy," you called out.

I turned around and you went into the little dance you do, you know, the one that's a cross between the funky chicken, the moonwalk and Axl Rose's shuffle? Man, I just wanted to scoop you up and hug you so hard except that I was laughing so hard. After your display of agility, you started down the hall toward your bedroom, but not before looking back with the biggest smirk on your face, proud that you'd made your dad laugh.

You know, Jake, in the years to come you may never recall this fleeting moment in your long life to live, but I will treasure it always. I hope you'll always keep "The '59 Sound" close by to lift your spirits in the low times and to raise the mood when your ready to rock the house (just don't do too much damage). Finally, I hope that whenever you hear the opening chords of the song that you'll think about your dad and how much he loves you.

Happy Birthday.
Dad

originally published November 13, 2008 on POPDOSE
 

Great Strides is coming

In the next day or two, I will begin my fundraising campaign for this year's Great Strides Walk in Valencia. We tried to come up with a new song for the Malchus family video, but each one chosen was either inappropriate, or Jacob nixed because he didn't want to "ruin" the song by having it become associated with CF.

As Sophie will attest, these songs become reminders of what we're fighting for when we ask for donations. Because of past videos, Sophie can no longer listen to "Here Comes the Sun" or Springsteen's "Workin' On a Dream" because they make her heart hurt too much. For that same reason, we didn't use the perfectly suitable Bruno Mars song, "Count On Me." Jacob loves that track, thanks in part to its use in the animated film, A Turtle's Tale (a movie that his dad just happened to work on), and also because it's just a wonderful song.

So, we chose to tweak last year's video (with the One Republic song intact) because it turned out so wonderful.  However, thanks to the hard work of Sophie the video was updated with some great pics from our once in a lifetime trip to Disney World and Give Kids the World.

Tomorrow I will post the video, along with my official fundraising letter. For now, enjoy the Bruno Mars song that got rejected, probably the only time that's ever happened to the immensely talented Mr. Mars. Here he is performing on Julie and Sophie's favorite talk show.

Aloha

Memories of Cutting Trees

This weekend my brother and I took down an old pine growing in my backyard. The tree had grown so big that it was pressing against the wall separating our yard with my neighbor's. The task was, at times, a little nerve racking, as we worked around power lines in both yards and we had to avoid getting crushed by thick falling tree limbs. After a long day of sawing (marked by a brief excursion to buy a treadmill), the tree was gone and we all ate a hearty Mexican dinner cooked by Julie and my sister-in-law.

Working with us were my two nephews, who seemed to get a kick out of cutting wood and using a hand saw. Watching them, coupled with the sound of cracking branches and the smell of dead pine, conjured memories of my youth. The old Malchus house had a huge backyard full of trees. I can remember many autumn days standing under a ladder while my father climbed up and clipped off branches for kindling. Those were long, boring afternoon and I shivered quite a bit, pounding my feet on the hard, cold ground, praying we could go inside soon.

I've been thinking about my father a lot this past week. I spoke to him recently and he said that he can't play the clarinet as well he used to. His fingers aren't as quick and his eyes can't always read the music. My heart sank when he told me this, as playing music has been his lifeblood for as long as I can recall. Life in the old Malchus home in North Olmsted would not have been the same without the regular sounds of my dad's clarinet playing, either to figure out a new arrangement he was working on, or showing one of his students how they should play their parts.

I'm sure my relationship with my father is no different than most men my age. When I was a boy, he was an imposing figure, but I loved being by his side, especially when we accompanied him to marching band camp and stood on the sidelines while he barked out instructions to his students.  I was constantly afraid of disappointing him, a fear I carried with me into college. It wasn't until he had heart surgery in 1992 that I began to see him more as a man and less as this mythical figure called "Dad." As I've gotten older, although we don't always agree on everything, I have come to love him more and respect him for all that he did for the family. I may not agree with all of his choices, but I understand why/how he came to his decisions a little better.

Hearing him talk about losing some of his musical skills saddened me. I know how much he loves playing and how alive it makes him feel. The reality of my dad getting older really hit home during that conversation and reminded me once again that I need to call more often to talk to my folks. I've said it many times, but there would not be a Basement Songs book without my mom and dad.

I know that they read the book over Christmas, and I'm sure some of what I wrote may have surprised them (but come on, Mom & Dad, you had to know some of the things that were happening while you were away on vacations), but everything I put in the book was done so out of love.

Anyone reading this, make sure you contact you parents this week and tell them you love them. If your parents aren't a part of your life then call those people who mean the most to you. Life is unpredictable, as we all know, and we shouldn't let a day go by without telling the people who helped us grow into men and women know how important they are in our lives.

Whenever I hear this song by Springsteen, as with many Springsteen songs, I think of my dad.

Happy Anniversary, Julie!

Julie and went out for our anniversary tonight and stopped at Two Bucks in North Olmsted for a night cap. The jukebox was loaded with more music than I've ever seen, one of those digital machines that has access to nearly everything under the sun. Highlight of the night was hearing Springsteen's "Book of Dreams," (our love song) followed by this Los Lobos deep cut that was also played at our wedding.

Happy Anniversary to my beloved wife, Julie. 19 years have flown by.

Sophie's Springsteen Tape/ Chapter preview

Once upon a time, we went to Hawaii.

In 2003 our family took a trip to Hawaii so I could run the Honolulu Marathon. I raised over $10K for the CF Foundation training for that race. Here's the chapter from Basement Songs that explains how we wound up there and why the music of Bruce Springsteen has become so inspirational to our family.

BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN

SOPHIE’S SPRINGSTEEN TAPE

Bruce Springsteen released his 12th studio album, The Rising, in July 2002, beginning a creative streak that has not let up in ten years. With the U.S. still reeling from the 9/11 terrorist attacks and stories of fallen soldiers in the headlines, the Boss recorded a masterful reflection on loss, sorrow, love, hope, redemption and trying to find one’s way through the darkness.  Each song stands up with his finest material from an extraordinary career that dates back to 1973. Making the album even more compelling was the fact that Springsteen recorded The Rising with the fabled E Street Band for the first time since the early 1980s sessions that resulted in Born in the USA.  Springsteen fans rejoiced, as this was what we’d been waiting for since Springsteen and the E Street Band had reunited for a triumphant tour in 1999.

At that time in the life of my family, we were coming to grips with our own feelings of hopelessness, sorrow, anger, love, hope and struggles with faith.  It was a mere seven months after Jacob had been diagnosed with cystic fibrosis.  Personally, I had bottled up many of the fears and doubts that had taken up residency in my mind, foolishly assuming that Julie would not want to discuss my feelings because she was going through the same emotions.  There were many times I wound up crying alone, either secluded in my car, on the couch, or quietly at night while my wife slept next to me.

Just as I’d done throughout my life, I turned to music to help me through some of those dark times.  More than any album I listened to, The Rising tapped into the well of feelings I was experiencing.  In many ways, it saved me.  What The Rising also did was bring the music of Bruce Springsteen into the hearts of my children and create a special bond for our family, providing joy and inspiration for all four of us.

The album was a critical and commercial success.  In true Springsteen fashion, he and the E Street Band toured the world, including a stop in Barcelona, Spain that was filmed and broadcast on European television.  Around the time of the 2003 Grammy Awards, for which The Rising received multiple nominations, the CBS TV network aired an hour of the Barcelona concert footage to drum up anticipation for the awards show. 

I freakishly set up the VCR to record the program on the Friday night it aired.  Sophie watched in fascination as her wild-eyed fanatical father pressed buttons and frantically searched for a blank VHS tape.  She asked what I was doing, and I explained that I was taping the Springsteen concert.  Excited, Sophie told me she wanted to watch “The Springsteen." 

It was a little dishearteningly when, the next morning, the first thing she asked to watch was...Rugrats.  But it was okay, because the next thing she wanted to see was, yes, “The Springsteen.”

Feeding off of my enthusiasm, Jacob agreed to forego his favorite music videos during his morning breathers therapy.  At the time, he only liked the Wiggles (or “Wiwis,” as he called them) and Sesame Street.  Together the three of us watched The Springsteen, and my kids loved it.  Once his breathers were completed, Jacob insisted on replaying the performance of “Dancing in the Dark.” Free of his Vest and nebulizer tubes, he danced around the room, mimicking Springsteen’s manic behavior.  As for Sophie, she fell in love with violinist Soozie Tyrell.  In a matter of days, my little girl created her own “violin” by taking a recorder, pulling off the bottom piece and shoving a drumstick in the end.  Tucking it under her chin, she’d hold her violin with her left hand and use a second drumstick as the bow.  I was on cloud nine having introduced my children, a new generation, to the music of an artist who had inspired me since my senior year of high school.

A month or so later, Sophie requested her own Springsteen mix tape.  I leapt at the opportunity and created “Sophie’s Springsteen Tape,” incorporating the upbeat songs from the CBS special (there would be time for the sad songs later in life) along with an assortment of Bruce classics every child should know: “Badlands,” “Give the Girl a Kiss,” “Seaside Bar Song,” and “Glory Days,” just to name a few.  Through long road trips and short drives around town, Sophie and Jacob sang along to the choruses from “Lonesome Day” and “The Rising.”   They would bounce their heads to “Lion’s Den” and scream “the change was made uptown and the Big Man joined the band” from “Tenth Avenue Freeze Out.”  My children knew who Clarence Clemons was.  The Big Man!  How cool is that?  Eventually they came to know all of the E Street Band: Max, Garry, Nils, Patti, Danny, the Professor and Little Stevie.

Their favorite song may have been “Mary’s Place.” During this rousing number, Sophie misheard the chorus, singing “Meet me at the wedding place,” which I always felt gave the song a touch of innocence.  During the last verse, as the music quiets and the back-up singers begin calling out “Turn it up,” Julie made it a tradition to literally turn up the music with each call out, then quickly back down again.  This made the kids ecstatic each and every time, and they would laugh and sing with all of their hearts.  I can’t tell you how many times we listened to that tape in our van over a two-year period, until it finally got tangled and snapped from having being loved to death.

In a year that found my children beginning a journey into Springsteen fandom, 2003 also took our family on a journey from our California home to the beaches of Hawaii.  Julie and I were already involved with the CF Foundation’s yearly fundraiser, Great Strides, but I wanted to do more.  People knew so little about cystic fibrosis, and I felt the urge to educate and raise more money for the cause.  At a CF parents function in March I was handed a pamphlet about marathon training.  In a moment of clarity, a single word came to me:

Run.

I could run a marathon and raise money for the CF Foundation!  By writing letters about my goal I could educate friends and family, and by punishing my body, I could inspire people to donate and help the efforts to find a cure for CF.  It was a crazy thought, especially given the fact that I hadn’t been a dedicated runner since my high school cross-country days, although “dedicated” is a big stretch when describing my teenage athleticism. Nevertheless, sixteen years after the last time I’d run more than two miles, the idea of running twenty-six-point-two of them was an epiphany.  In fact, it felt like a calling.  And so, I signed up to run the Honolulu Marathon.

Julie, Sophie, Jacob and I flew to Hawaii in December, 2003. As any amateur marathon runner will tell you, that first marathon is an exhilarating experience.  It doesn’t matter how fast you run or where you finish, it’s the sense of accomplishment you receive once you cross the finish line.  Think about it: after months of training and raising $10,000 for the CF Foundation, I was going to be running twenty-six (point two) freaking miles!  The exotic sights of the island only heightened the experience, from the sun rising over the mountains to the vast ocean and the tropical foliage.

The highlight of my race wasn’t the sight-seeing, though.  It came at the dreaded twenty-second mile, “the wall,” as runners call it.  I was met at that point in the race by my trainer, Robert, who jogged alongside me for that offensive mile, the whole time offering words of encouragement and distracting me from the cramp in my side and the aches in my feet.  During our short time on the road together, Robert called Julie on her cell phone.

“We love you,” she said, her voice full of excitement.  Speaking to the love of my life gave me the extra boost I needed when I thought I might keel over.  Pushing forward, I sang to myself the Springsteen songs that I’d taught my children, the very melodies that filled my heart with love, that buoyed me across the finish line to collapse into the arms of my family.

After the race, we began a weeklong stay in Hawaii.  It was one of the greatest vacations ever.  Unlike our trips to Cleveland or Tucson to visit family, this time it was just the four of us.  In that tranquil tropical environment, our lives were on hold, as if the troubles and fears that were a part of our daily routine had been left back in California while we basked in the sun and splashed in the turquoise ocean. 

At week’s end, Julie and I wanted mementos for the kids to remind them of our tropical holiday.  Sophie and Jacob asked for ukuleles.  The size of the instrument was perfect for their little hands, and thus they became the kids’ “guitars.”

Once we returned home, the children continued watching The Springsteen on a regular basis, Sophie with her homemade violin and Jacob with his ukulele/guitar.  They would prance around the living room, singing along to their favorite songs.  Sometimes I would imagine them learning to play the actual instruments and jamming with the real E Street Band.  Hey, a father can dream, can’t he?

“Sophie’s Springsteen Tape,” and its replacement, “Sophie and Jake’s Springsteen CD,” kind of ruined my listening experience of The Rising.  Whenever I hear the title track, I expect to hear “Mary’s Place,” followed by “Lonesome Day,” instead of the original track listing.  I don’t mind, though (sorry, Bruce), because that mix tape not only made the music of Springsteen an important part of Sophie and Jacob’s childhood but provided many lasting memories.  On days when I’m melancholy and I feel that elephant sitting on my chest, I think back to that Hawaiian trip and recall the light in the eyes of my children, or I conjure the sound of their voices singing Springsteen.  Although many years have passed since that time, all it takes to place me in the right frame of mind is to imagine Sophie singing, “Meet me at the wedding place!”

That’s the power of music, my friends.

That’s the power of Bruce Springsteen.

The first appearance by Mr. Springsteen

Bruce gets plenty of mention in BASEMENT SONGS. "The Rising" has been an important song for our family and it seems appropriate considering all that's happening on the east coast. Stay safe, everyone, and lend a hand if you're able.