ex(PR)essed

Last year, I could hardly wait for the Super Bowl halftime show and the Tom Petty concert. I dig Tom Petty, and even though none of the youth who we were watching the game with knew who he was, my friend Sandy and I sang and bopped along to his hits.

This year, I was looking forward to seeing Bruce Springsteen, but I wasn’t quite as excited. I like Bruce, but his fans tend to be a bit more fanatic about him than I am, so I kept a low profile. I was thrilled when he really stole the show! Twelve minutes definitely wasn’t enough time!

And, about midway through his performance, I leaned over and said to Jeff, “Do you know who bought me my first Springsteen album (it was a cassette)?” It had occurred to me that I became a Springsteen fan because my grandmother bought me “Born in the U.S.A.” the same Christmas she bought me a shiny, red boombox. My dad was a Springsteen fan (I say “was” because he doesn’t like any of Bruce’s new stuff), but my first memories of Bruce will always be courtesy of Grandma!