Summer 2024

T he elegant, middle-aged woman raised her hands and glanced upward as if seeing an apparition.“I get it now,” she said to her circle of friends. “It is a religious experience.” She wasn’t speaking to me, but I wanted to barge in on her conversation and say,“Me too, lady.” Meantime, my husband—recovering from open heart surgery—uttered one sentence as we shuffled through throngs of fans:“We need the kids to see this.”This was Bruce Springsteen, live, in concert. We’re on a “let’s not wait to do it” streak, and I used every airline mile and credit card point I had to get to one of the few remaining U.S. shows on Springsteen’s world tour. Delayed for months due to Springsteen’s health issues, it was now rolling again. We found a gig in Albany, New York. Two weeks and a 12-hour travel day later, there we stood: My husband, my 27- year-old daughter, her fiancé, and me, in the NewYork State capital, among the queues of fans. I felt as if we were in a live Springsteen video, where the work- ing man still sported his well-worn jeans after a long day on the job, cig- arette in hand, vacillating between the line for pizza slices and the line for beer, ready for a release. But this felt magical. Everyone here was jovial. Longtime couples chatted with strangers about having seen Springsteen back in the ’70s. Others shared stories about the three, five, ten times they’d seen “him.” Everyone used the word “him” as if referring to Jesus, or the King of England, or anyone else whose notoriety doesn’t require the use of a given name. I expected to see plastic beaded friendship bracelets being exchanged, à la Taylor Swift. Trust me, every guy would have worn one, they were that giddy. Collectively, we reflected a popular Springsteen line:“It ain’t no sin to be glad you’re alive.” Bruce Springsteen is known for his energetic three-hour-plus shows—with no intermission. He has twenty Grammy awards and has sold more than 150-million records. He is a Presidential Medal of Freedom recipient, and a down to earth, genuinely genial guy. I’ve witnessed it first hand.Years ago, when my stepson Scott was an angsty fifteen year old, he joined us in Idaho for NewYear’s week.We ended up at a small house party with old friends and new acquaintances.Two of them were Bruce and his wife, Patti. I didn’t see much of Scott or Mr. Springsteen that evening, as they sat off in a corner and talked about life, ambitions and music—for hours it seemed. Not a care was given to other celebrities present. As our family rode home, I said,“Wow, Bruce was wonderful with you tonight.” Scott replied,“Who’s Bruce?” Historically, I’d been another “who’s Bruce” person during his early ’80s radio heyday. Although “Born to Run” was a favorite song when I was a kid, I didn’t realize who sang it. I’d dismissed most Springsteen songs as “not my style.” I started to appreci- ate his music in the late ’80s, the “Tunnel of Love” stage, when hardcore diehards thought he’d sold out to the pop world. When I married my husband in 2016, I was indoctrinated to Springsteen’s talent, his showmanship and lyricism. The allure really hit me when we saw him for the first time at the begin- ning of his world tour in early 2023. Tears fell from my hus- band’s eyes during at least a couple of songs. As I glanced around, I saw many men wiping their faces, lips quivering, as we women danced on, perhaps oblivious to the nerves being touched. Everyone was in heaven. It was the same in Albany. “Oh my God, he’s starting with ‘Candy’s Room,’” the man in front of us exclaimed to his wife (clearly both in their late 70s) with already-moist eyes. Men who likely hadn’t danced in decades moved their bodies and linked arms with their brethren, swaying to the slower stuff.OnApril 15th, as tax day waned and the music built momentum, the auditorium was a respite from reality. “I’ve never seen so many boomers on their feet for three hours,” my son-in-law said afterward, sporting new appreciation for the man called “The Boss.” We were all touched.The fist pumping, screaming, singing and dancing—a fami- ly-friendly frenzy where everyone mattered, happiness prevailed and, for three hours, we were all united as Americans. Dina Ruiz is a former news anchor at KSBW TV, past host of “Candid Camera” and has starred on a reality show on the E! Network. She is a writer, editor and yogini. She resides on the Monterey Peninsula. BEHIND THE SPOTLIGHT D I N A R U I Z As I glanced around, I saw many men wiping their faces, lips quiver- ing, as we women danced on, perhaps oblivious to the nerves being touched. The Boss 64 C A R M E L M A G A Z I N E • S U M M E R 2 0 2 4

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