Happy Birthday, Boss
Late last night my old college buddy sent me a video of the crowd in New Jersey singing Happy Birthday to Bruce.
26 years ago Rosie lived in the filthiest frat house and hung out drinking in the filthiest of rooms that they affectionately called 'Jungleland.'
Bruce is 63. Me and Rosie are 48.
We were 18 when we stood shoulder-to-shoulder singing Bruce for the first time.
We'd both been singing along for about ten years at that time!
And it's funny because all week long a bunch of us have been mentioning that today is Bruce's birthday.
Like we need to get him a present!
And that's pretty cool.
I know it has crossed Pops' mind today. Carrie will surely raise a toast. Hell, her kids might even make a cake! And Jim, John, Dana...all across the board. Jeff certainly made sure that he hoisted a Jameson's every 09/23.
The thing that really struck me about it last week in DC was that I spent a long time looking at the crowd. There were 55,000 people there. Everyone was standing and dancing and cheering and waving.
"Can you imagine having such a following?" I'd asked Carrie.
"He's gonna' go to heaven," Carrie said.
And I think Bruce is really thinking about that sort of stuff these days.
He plays every song, still, as if his very life depends upon it. The other night he stopped singing in mid-song when he passed Clarence's spot on stage. It wasn't a staged moment. He just stopped, overcome by emotion.
And that's what we sort of forget when a larger than life person is entertaining us.
Bruce's mom was on stage last night as she sang Happy Birthday to her boy. She's in her 90's.
(Trust me...Rosie sent me the video - thanks buddy).
Such a human touch sort of moment.
And that's why Bruce is such a star in so many eyes. He let us all in. He sings with us and for us. We pump our fists knowing that he's lived, loved and lost, and that time is short and that we need to bring it...day after day, night after night.
The concert ended at 1:30 last night.
I wish I could post the video...it made me smile.
Happy Birthday, Bruce.
We look forward to 30 more years.
26 years ago Rosie lived in the filthiest frat house and hung out drinking in the filthiest of rooms that they affectionately called 'Jungleland.'
Bruce is 63. Me and Rosie are 48.
We were 18 when we stood shoulder-to-shoulder singing Bruce for the first time.
We'd both been singing along for about ten years at that time!
And it's funny because all week long a bunch of us have been mentioning that today is Bruce's birthday.
Like we need to get him a present!
And that's pretty cool.
I know it has crossed Pops' mind today. Carrie will surely raise a toast. Hell, her kids might even make a cake! And Jim, John, Dana...all across the board. Jeff certainly made sure that he hoisted a Jameson's every 09/23.
The thing that really struck me about it last week in DC was that I spent a long time looking at the crowd. There were 55,000 people there. Everyone was standing and dancing and cheering and waving.
"Can you imagine having such a following?" I'd asked Carrie.
"He's gonna' go to heaven," Carrie said.
And I think Bruce is really thinking about that sort of stuff these days.
He plays every song, still, as if his very life depends upon it. The other night he stopped singing in mid-song when he passed Clarence's spot on stage. It wasn't a staged moment. He just stopped, overcome by emotion.
And that's what we sort of forget when a larger than life person is entertaining us.
Bruce's mom was on stage last night as she sang Happy Birthday to her boy. She's in her 90's.
(Trust me...Rosie sent me the video - thanks buddy).
Such a human touch sort of moment.
And that's why Bruce is such a star in so many eyes. He let us all in. He sings with us and for us. We pump our fists knowing that he's lived, loved and lost, and that time is short and that we need to bring it...day after day, night after night.
The concert ended at 1:30 last night.
I wish I could post the video...it made me smile.
Happy Birthday, Bruce.
We look forward to 30 more years.
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