Saturday, September 10, 2016

Dispatch from Bruce's River Tour: Philadelphia 9/9/16

Before we left New Jersey, I admonished Fred to leave his giant, multitool pocket knife home. "There'll be a security screening," I said, "just like at the Monster Truck show, and I'm going to be mad if we have to walk back to the car to stow your knife like we had to do then." I drove, because Philadelphia is mine, and because I have the working radio with the pre-set Bruce Springsteen satellite channel on it. We were headed to Citizens Bank Park to hear, see, and admire The Boss and the E-Street Band. Adele was appearing at the neighboring Wells Fargo Center, and together with New Jersey shore traffic, the traffic for these concerts jammed up I-95. We drove mostly between speeds of 20 and 40 MPH all the way to the Sports Complex. Usually this takes an hour. It seemed an eternity last night, but worth the effort for Bruce. I was hoping he would break his all-time concert-length record of four hours and six seconds, or at least his American record of four hours and four seconds set two nights before in Philadelphia. It would be quite a distinction to have attended a historic concert such as this, and I looked forward to bragging about it.

Me waiting for the concert to start and making a rare political statement
 The concert started at 8:00 and a roar came up from the crowd. The woman next to me let out a shrill banshee scream, the likes of which I knew I would not be able to tolerate for four hours. I scanned the area for other possible seats. She beat me to it. She moved down a few rows with her mother and their Coors Lights. Mama turned out to be quite the dancer. "New York City Serendade" was the first song, just like at this August 2016 concert at MetLife Stadium...(not my video)...(I wasn't there)...

I sat in my blue plastic baseball fan seat for four hours, fascinated by the crowd interacting with their (my) idol, and Bruce metabolizing the crowd's enthusiasm and energy. After all of these years, and all of these (long) concerts, he still looks like he's having the time of his life performing "Born to Run" for us.

He descended into the crowd many times to interact with people lucky enough to be in the Pit Line. He collected homemade signs requesting songs and favors ("Dance with me, Bruce!") and smiled the whole time. At one point he brought a talented college student on stage to perform with him, and at another point a woman and her guitar-playing pre-adolescent daughter. Both young musicians got to play one of Bruce's guitars. Many fans got their wish to dance with (next to) their favorite band member other than Bruce. All of these requests were made known to Bruce via the homemade poster board signs which have become legendary at Springsteen concerts.

All our favorite E-Streeters were there: Max, Steven, Nils, Roy, Garry, and Sookie. And then there was Jake Clemons on the tenor saxophone, frequently taking solos indistinguishable from his late uncle Clarence's. Jake found his way down into the pit crowd quite a bit. From our seats, we could follow Bruce through the sea of people by watching the spotlight on him. When Jake was down there, too, there was a second spotlight. What an honor for him, I thought. It was as if he's no longer simply Clarence's replacement, but is now Jake Clemons, a full-fledged member of the band with his own distinct personality. And he sang back-up a number of times.

I've always dreamed about what I would ask Bruce if I ever got the chance to talk to him or even interview him. ("Dream Baby, Dream") I have my questions ready. I can't tell you what they are but I can tell you they have to do with the creative process, performing, and charisma. For example, "What goes through your mind when you walk out on stage and see thousands of people who not only paid lots of money to see you perform, but sing your words back to you? Does that ever stop being surreal?" I can't ask this one--"If you were to write a book, what would the topic be?"--because we are now eagerly awaiting the release of Bruce's memoir Born to Run to be released on September 27. (Yes, I've preordered it.)

Last night I watched individuals and couples around me swayed to the slower songs and danced like maniacs to their favorite Springsteen showstoppers. The guy next to Fred must be the maniac leader. His crazy-macho dance moves didn't fit the music most of the time, but it was impossible not to watch him. But watching him was at the same time uncomfortable. Quick: look back at Bruce!

Many of my favorites were performed last night. We don't often hear "Rosalita" and "4th of July, Asbury Park (Sandy)" in concert. I was thrilled to hear them last night. Before launching into my favorite boardwalk song, "Sandy," he asked, "Is anyone here from the Jersey Shore?" YES BRUCE, I AM! It's sad to think that every time I hear that song my own Wildwood boardwalk days are further in the past.

How appropriate to perform the song "Philadelphia" from the movie Philadelphia in the city of Philadelphia. Fred grabbed a few seconds of that.

 Bruce saved the very best for last. We didn't break any records for concert length, but a three-hour, 45-minute concert is nothing to complain about. It was a steamy, humid, HOT night, and the guy on the radio Springsteen channel said it was 106 degrees on the field. (I consider us lucky that we got more than two hours.) Bruce and the band ended the show with "Jersey Girl" which is a treat by itself, but when he brought a Gold Star Widow up on the stage to dance with him (requested by a poster board sign) there was not a dry eye in the park.

Performing "Jersey Girl"
 I know skeptics will say that Bruce and his advisors are simply master manipulators of fans and marketing geniuses, but I have proof that Bruce's allure is more than an act of manipulation. Fred, who I thought would balk at the length and volume of the music if he was even able to stay in or near his blue plastic seat during the whole concert, was enthralled the entire time. He took photos and the videos you see here. He took more videos you don't see here. "I can see what all the fuss is about," he said. Or he said something like that--my ears were ringing rather loudly still at the time of the quoted material.

Thursday, September 8, 2016

Inishmore, an Aran Island

A dry-stone wall in Inishmore
 I regret not taking the time to write more on-location in Ireland, and especially on Inishmore. (Important Irish writer John Millington Synge lived there and wrote about his observations in 1907, before the ferries and airplanes and throngs of tourists.) That was the place in Ireland I was most looking forward to, because of its legendary remoteness and unspoiled Irishness. On-site, I might have been able to capture the environment more precisely. The reality is that tourists ferry over from Galway in the morning. tour the island, buy sweaters and miscellany, eat, and leave before evening. Every day there is like a New Jersey shore summer in miniature: tourists in, chaos, tourists out. Substitute T-shirts for Aran sweaters and it's the same kind of thing. (Not that this is a bad thing...)

One of the Galway-Inishmore ferries
Western Ireland, Connemara and County Galway specifically, and the Aran Islands, have an interesting ecology. If not for people, the parts sticking up from the ocean and bay would be mainly bare rock. But over the centuries, people carried sand and seaweed from the shore and placed it by hand on the bare rock. This has actually made a fertile soil, but it takes hundreds of years. Also interesting about this place: fuschia, the same plant that my mother carried inside to protect in cold weather, fuschia grows outside in the ground all over the place in western Ireland.

Windswept Inishmore remoteness
There are probably some people who sign up for the Inishmore excursion thinking that they'll find ancient Irish civilization and culture untouched and intact on these remote Aran Islands. I can't speak for the other two islands, Inishmaan and Inisheer, but on Inishmore frequent ferries and tourism have erased most of the remoteness. We heard the natives speaking their native Irish language (known elsewhere as Gaelic) to each other, but English to us. There is only one ATM on the island, and many of the shops do not accept credit cards, so there is a taste of ancient civilization, I guess.

The fort on the cliff: Dun Aengus
Most people board those ferries, I suspect, to see the island's wild scenery and ruins.

Check out those cliffs behind me! The wall behind me is part of Dun Aengus.
Foremost is Dun Aengus, a fort built on a cliff which dates back to around 1100 BC. At some point, probably around 700-800 AD, the fort was strengthened. Fortified.

Really tall dry-stone walls at Dun Aengus
What we saw this summer were the remains of a structure surrounded by three concentric half-circle, dry-stone walls, taller than those we saw throughout the Irish countryside. Don't climb on these walls: the stones are just placed on top of each other without benefit of mortar, concrete, rebar, or any other support. My guidebook says that the one kilometer walk from the visitors' center to the fort is "slightly strenuous." Indeed it was. I never felt that the walk was beyond me, but I did feel compelled to take extra care over the rough rocks that make up the last section of the hike. (Where is the nearest hospital? How would an ambulance get to me? A broken ankle would be embarrassing.) This is a place for sneakers or hiking boots, not for flip-flops or ballet flats. Luckily I was wearing my blue sneakers with the memory foam insoles. They were nice. I think I'll wear them tomorrow.

Looking back on the walk to Dun Aengus with Galway Bay in the background. The rocks in the foreground make for some tricky hiking. Yes, we walked from that building you can kind of see the roof of, but the van was parked even further out on the road.

We were transported to Dun Aengus by one of the many minivans...
that exist on the island to move tourists around. For ten or fifteen euros, we got a ride and narration to Dun Aengus, a few hours to spend there and at some quaint shops, and the a ride around to see more of the island's sites.

There are sweater shops all over the island, but they also sell postcards, books, and other souvenirs. In a few minutes, those picnic tables would be crowded with thirsty tourists.
Another way to tour Inishmore!

We saw The Seven Churches which is actually remains of two old churches, ruins of some fifteenth-century monastic houses, and some old gravestones.

The Seven Churches site
There's a seal colony down the road, but some overly-seal-friendly tourists ruined our chances of seeing the seals by moving too close to the seals' beach territory. The seals went into the water and all we could discern from our van were possible seal heads bobbing in the water.

One of the two ruined churches at The Seven Churches
Back at our starting point, Kilronan, the only town on the island and location of the ferry pier, we enjoyed lunch and a little shopping. I bought a second Aran sweater (I needed a green one) at the touristy Aran Sweater Market even though I've been told that they're probably not actually made on the islands, or even the larger island of Ireland, and they're not made from wool of resident Irish sheep. (They sell yarn, too.)

LOTS of sweaters and free shipping for 100+ euro purchases
 If I look into my crystal ball, I'm reasonably sure I see another trip to Inishmore or one of the other Arans, but with a brief stay at an inn so that I can see the place without mobs of tourists. I'd like to experience some of that remoteness and some of that extreme Galway Bay weather I've heard about.

Rent a bike or take a minivan tour of the island.
 If I can get my cycling legs back, it would be charming to tour the island on a rented bike as our friend did the day before our day trip. My crystal ball shows nothing about a third Aran sweater, though.

Bonus Aran Island shots: