The other people.


I’m the other part, the significant one of a Springsteen fan.

Do you know this one? Come on you gotta know this one. Listen to the intro! Listen to Max! you gotta be kidding me.

For me Bruce Springsteen is something like this: spread out in his room, actually a fallout shelter from the world, the walls full of posters, concert tickets, sports stickers, records and books, and me tryin’ to catch a title just from the drum and a breathless One-Two-Three!!!

It’s guessing the difficult, the very difficult song, the one he’ll never bet I’ll recognize. It’s knowing he’ll foresee which verse I remember of a song, and why.

It’s a birthday card with a nonsense personalized version of Growin’ up, it’s a lot of smiles, sometimes very big smiles, sometimes a little pain.

It’s the strenght of a passion that is not mine, but still, somewhere deep inside of me, it’s me.

It’s some inexplicable tears shed in a stadium bright with lights, it’s a thousand travels with this constant soundtrack in the background.

It’s some notes and lyrics that intertwined somehow compose a story that is ours. It’s him, and me.

And probably nothing more, nothing less than your lives, too.





In 2006 I got out of the office and arrived quite late (for fan standars!) at the show. I checked the entrance, mine is 13… well, ok. In the seat next to mine, there’s this pretty brunette, alone.  She asks me help with her camera, and we chat, then the show begins. Bruce is onstage, there’s magic in the night, and I’m not alone, my new friend sings and dances with me. At the end of the show I give her my email address, asking that she sends me the show photos she took, to have a reminder of the occasion. She writes my address on the back cover of a book. I’m not quite sure I’ll ever hear from her again.

Today it has been 8 years of going together at Bruce’s concerts. Our son is six, and he stays home with grandpa and grandma. We both love Bruce, even if she prefers the intimate Bruce, and I do favour the rock’n’roll one. We have some common cornerstones, of course: Born to run, Jungleland, Night, Growing up. We talk a lot of Bruce, as if he’s family… and well, in a way, you know, he IS family.

As a result, this evening our son was in the shower singing We take care of our own, even if it was something more like “ui ceccher amooon bam bam BAAAM”. New generations of fans growing up.

And for all this, again, I just have to say Thank you, Bruce.