There I was at Reagan National Airport on Sunday, waiting for a flight to one of my spiritual families… the St. Davids Christian Writers Conference… when I heard CNN queuing up a story about Clarence Clemons’ passing. I stood up to watch the piece, moved by Bruce Springsteen’s Web site tribute and concert footage from the E Street Band’s prime.
I was taken back to Chicago’s Soldier Field, the late summer of 1985, and the “Born in the USA” tour. I’d just turned 29. My then-husband and I had moved to Chicago from Milwaukee only a couple of months earlier because of my promotion to a job for which I was hopelessly underqualified. (I was also the only one willing to take it, given the company was in bankruptcy.) We were on the field; the only other time I’d ever been among such a sea of humanity was safely in the stands at a University of Nebraska football game.
I couldn’t tell you who opened for Springsteen. I can tell you he played seemingly forever, and the Jumbotrons showed photos of a bunch of people who, even ten years after bursting onto the scene in a major way, still seemed to be excited as heck to be there. A highlight of course was Clemons’ solo on “Born to Run.” As I recall, he was wearing white, and was the only member of the band who didn’t seem to be sweating at all, the epitome of cool.
“Clemons was 69,” someone intoned. CNN moved on to its next story, and I came back to 2011. That was when I looked at the publication I’d reading before the story began: the latest AARP Bulletin.
