September 25, 1984
There are days in your life that mean more than others.
I was unaware that I was approaching the anniversary of such a day, but someone posted a ticket stub from the concert that went down at the Memorial Auditorium that night.
I was 19 years old...just a few weeks short of my 20th birthday. I was a huge Springsteen fan by then, but I’d never seen them perform live.
My brother John and buddy Tom picked me up in Erie, and on the way through North Collins we picked up my high school constant love interest.
Tom was a Who fan. On the way to the show he mentioned that he liked Springsteen, but he couldn’t imagine seeing anyone better than Roger & Pete.
We played Born in the USA all the way there.
Kellie talked about how good Bruce looked still he started lifting weights. She asked why I didn’t lift weights.
We expected a great show.
What we got was mind-numbingly fantastic.
Tom bought two shirts at the brief intermission. I asked him which concert was better, Bruce or The Who?
“I don’t remember even going to see The Who,” he said.
Yet, what I remember more about it was that I felt differently the next day. I was inspired to write and to read and to see Springsteen as many times as I could.
I won’t ever forget that first show.
The songs he played, the stories he told, “Twist & Shout” to end it...
...every time we thought they were done, they came back.
I was tired from watching.
I’ve seen Bruce 32 more times in 34 years.
Not nearly enough.
I sent messages to those who went with me that night.
“I wish I was 19 again,” Kellie said.
Yeah, that too.
What’s really cool is that if I close my eyes and concentrate I can perfectly recall sitting in that seat that night as Bruce belted out “Trapped.”
It’s funny, but that’s how it goes with days that you hold onto.
The ticket was $12.50.
34 years later the seat on Broadway was about 40 times that.
Still worth it.
Every nickel spent through the years was worth it.
Memories are so cool.
I was unaware that I was approaching the anniversary of such a day, but someone posted a ticket stub from the concert that went down at the Memorial Auditorium that night.
I was 19 years old...just a few weeks short of my 20th birthday. I was a huge Springsteen fan by then, but I’d never seen them perform live.
My brother John and buddy Tom picked me up in Erie, and on the way through North Collins we picked up my high school constant love interest.
Tom was a Who fan. On the way to the show he mentioned that he liked Springsteen, but he couldn’t imagine seeing anyone better than Roger & Pete.
We played Born in the USA all the way there.
Kellie talked about how good Bruce looked still he started lifting weights. She asked why I didn’t lift weights.
We expected a great show.
What we got was mind-numbingly fantastic.
Tom bought two shirts at the brief intermission. I asked him which concert was better, Bruce or The Who?
“I don’t remember even going to see The Who,” he said.
Yet, what I remember more about it was that I felt differently the next day. I was inspired to write and to read and to see Springsteen as many times as I could.
I won’t ever forget that first show.
The songs he played, the stories he told, “Twist & Shout” to end it...
...every time we thought they were done, they came back.
I was tired from watching.
I’ve seen Bruce 32 more times in 34 years.
Not nearly enough.
I sent messages to those who went with me that night.
“I wish I was 19 again,” Kellie said.
Yeah, that too.
What’s really cool is that if I close my eyes and concentrate I can perfectly recall sitting in that seat that night as Bruce belted out “Trapped.”
It’s funny, but that’s how it goes with days that you hold onto.
The ticket was $12.50.
34 years later the seat on Broadway was about 40 times that.
Still worth it.
Every nickel spent through the years was worth it.
Memories are so cool.
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