Hurricane Frances offered me the chance to wade through all 675 pages of Dave Marsh's "Two Hearts" -- the most impersonal biography ever written.
The things I'll do for Bruce.
Although some of my more intellectual friends consider it a curiousity at best (and much more than an embarassment), I am an unapologetic Springsteen fan. A living-breathing get-a-lifer who has travelled to multiple cities each tour and knows the words to everything including "Blinded by the Light."
Yeah, Bruce has made some dumbass personal and profesional moves and there are a few clunkers in his catalogue. But who hasn't screwed up in 54 years? I realize he doesn't celebrate the anniversaries, but he and I have been together for nearly 30 years now.
Marsh believes that Springsteen's audience started as young people who lived in or escaped blue collar, rust belt bleakness, eventually advancing and evolving to educated, upper-middle class rock critics like himself.
You'd be hard pressed to make that argument during a Buffalo show where middle-aged men in expensive sportswear have tears rolling down their cheeks en masse during "My Hometown."
Marsh makes the point that Springsteen grew up in a home without books as if it is Springsteen's singular miracle that he became a writer under those circumstances.
Marsh is apparently not familiar with the idea that writing may not be the gift of education, but a reward for disciplining an untethered mind.
There are more than a few of us with blue-collar roots who can put a thought to paper (and in less than 675 repetitive pages).
But the book was still a gift, both in its receipt from a good friend and the actual reading. It was heartening to learn that Springsteen wrote more than 70 songs for possible consideration for the "Born in the USA" album and still, after having his picture simultaneously on the covers of Time and Newsweek and bathing in the adulation of millions at live shows, wrestles mightily with the writing process and self-doubt.
Some songs he was not enthusiastic about have become huge hits, others that he labored over and loved have never been recorded.
That isn't the essence of cool my brother, a fellow fantatic and business executive, sees in The Boss. But it works for me.
Many writers I know surround themselves with quotes from the literary greats. My mantra comes from Freehold, New Jersey.
"Show a little faith, there's magic in the night. You ain't a beauty, but hey, you're all right."
And that's all right with me.
Copyright 2004 Judi Griggs