Neurotic Democrat

My brother-in-law invited me to Columbus this weekend to see Bruce Springsteen singing for Obama, and I got in the car, rolled down the windows, and let the wind roll back my hair.

Well, I got in the minivan. The windows were, up, technically, but I had the AC on. I made it to Columbus from Akron in just over two hours, only stopping twice to pee.

I don’t know, Bruce. Maybe we ain’t that young anymore.

There are days, even in a 20-month-long election campaign — moments, really — that stand apart. They’re sublime. You know even when they are happening that you’ll remember them long after the last votes are cast. Today was one of those days. A breath. A palliative. A restorative moment with nary a pundit in sight.

For a neurotic democrat from Central Jersey, a tonic.

It’s hard to describe the day. Fall, on the Ohio State campus, but cloudless — warm. Alive with hope. A line of people waiting to get onto the lawn, more than a football field long. People wearing Obama pins and shirts. Firefighters for Obama Biden. Ohio Education Association for Obama. Another Clintonville Voter for Obama.

“Are you guys all up to date with your voter registration?” a kid with a clipboard asks.

To get inside, we have to fill out our name and address on a ticket, then rip it and hand it to them — one more way for them to collect names, emails, cell phones of supporters.

An American flag, maybe 100-feet long, hangs from a crane on the Oval. Soon, the lawn is over-flowing with people, students mainly, but also workers, parents, with little kids on their shoulders.

The Columbus mayor, Michael B. Coleman, is first on stage to fire up the crowd. “They’ve moved off the issues and they’re going negative,” he said, of McCain-Palin, imploring us to show courage, to knock on doors, get on the phone, get on the Internet “Let’s let America know that we can not take four more years of George Bush and John McCain.”

Next came Sen. John Glenn, an Ohio hero, followed by a group of six local Ohioans who had knocked on 4,000 doors in two days, earning the right to stand on stage before the Boss. A short video followed. Obama came on near the end, and the whole place cheered for his image on the giant video screen.

And then Bruce walked out, hugged John Glenn, and strode to the mic. “It’s not everyday you get introduced by John Glenn,” he said.

Typical Bruce: He followed with a few lines from the classic Byrds’ song, “Hey, Mr. Spaceman.”

He started his set with Promised Land …

The dogs on Main Street howl
’cause they understand
If I could take one moment into my hands

… and I thought: That’s why we’re all here today. That’s what we’re doing.

He moved from there to the Ghost of Tom Joad, with its haunting images of John Steinbeck’s Depression-era dust bowl.

Shelter line stretchin’ round the corner
Welcome to the new world order
Families sleepin’ in their cars in the southwest
No home no job no peace no rest

When he finished, he said that someone backstage reminded him he was in Columbus for the first time in 1973, opening up for Sha Na Na.

“Not many people remember Sha Na Na,” he said. “Not many people remember 1973 — I’m impressed.”

“We were here four years ago,” he added, when the laughter died down – a reference to the tour he did for John Kerry in ’04. “This time, we’re winning.”

And the place roared. When the cheering subsided, he eased straight into Thunder Road.

Show a little faith, it’s magic in the night

Then, a gem, one of my all-time favorite Springsteen songs: Youngstown. A poetic retelling of the rise and fall of a great American steel town. As he sang, a long, lazy sun-lit spider web floated over the crowd.

Well my daddy come on the Ohio works
When he come home from World War Two
Now the yard’s just scrap and rubble
He said, “Them big boys did what Hitler couldn’t do”
These mills they built the tanks and bombs
That won this country’s wars
We sent our sons to Korea and Vietnam
Now we’re wondering what they were dyin’ for

“We were in Pennsylvania yesterday,” he said, before the next song. “I don’t have to tell you” how important it is for Obama to win Ohio. “Oh,” he said, ”we were praying last time.”

From there, onto No Surrender.

We learned more from a three-minute record …

He paused — held the line – and laughed, and thousands of students on the Oval laughed with him

… then I ever learned in school.

“Maybe that just says something about me, I don’t know,” he added, interrupting the song, sunlight glinting off his guitar. “Early Alzheimer’s has long ago set in.”

No retreat, baby, no surrender …

When he finished, he looked out at the audience — a large, but much more intimate gathering than the stadiums and arenas he’s used to filling – and made his pitch. I include it here in full, because it is so eloquent, so on-target. It may come from an aging Jersey rocker who once sang “I hid in the clouded wrath of the crowd … when they said ‘Come down’ I threw up”, but it’s as important an endorsement of Barack Obama as any I’ve heard.

“I’ve spent 35 years writing about America, its people, and the meaning of the American Promise,” Bruce began …

The Promise that was handed down to us from our founding fathers, with one instruction: Do your best to make these things real. Opportunity, equality, social and economic justice, a fair shake for all of our citizens, the American idea, as a positive influence, around the world for a more just and peaceful existence. These are the things that give our lives hope, shape, and meaning. They are the ties that bind us together and give us faith in our contract with one another.

I’ve spent most of my creative life measuring the distance between that American promise and American reality. For many Americans, who are today losing their jobs, their homes, seeing their retirement funds disappear, who have no health care, or who have been abandoned in our inner cities. The distance between that promise and that reality has never been greater or more painful.

I believe Senator Obama has taken the measure of that distance in his own life and in his work. I believe he understands, in his heart, the cost of that distance, in blood and suffering, in the lives of everyday Americans. I believe as president, he would work to restore that promise to so many of our fellow citizens who have justifiably lost faith in its meaning. After the disastrous administration of the past 8 years, we need someone to lead us in an American reclamation project. In my job, I travel the world, and occasionally play big stadiums, just like Senator Obama. I’ve continued to find, wherever I go, America remains a repository of people’s hopes, possibilities, and desires, and that despite the terrible erosion to our standing around the world, accomplished by our recent administration, we remain, for many, a house of dreams. One thousand George Bushes and one thousand Dick Cheneys will never be able to tear that house down.

They will, however, be leaving office, dropping the national tragedies of Katrina, Iraq, and our financial crisis in our laps. Our sacred house of dreams has been abused, looted, and left in a terrible state of disrepair. It needs care; it needs saving, it needs defending against those who would sell it down the river for power or a quick buck. It needs strong arms, hearts, and minds. It needs someone with Senator Obama’s understanding, temperateness, deliberativeness, maturity, compassion, toughness, and faith, to help us rebuild our house once again. But most importantly, it needs us. You and me. To build that house with the generosity that is at the heart of the American spirit. A house that is truer and big enough to contain the hopes and dreams of all of our fellow citizens. That is where our future lies. We will rise or fall as a people by our ability to accomplish this task. Now I don’t know about you, but I want that dream back, I want my America back, I want my country back.

So now is the time to stand with Barack Obama and Joe Biden, roll up our sleeves, and come on up for the rising.

He launched into The Rising, his post-9/11 anthem, with its searing image of firefighters heading up the dark, smoky stairwells of the Twin Towers …

Lost track of how far I’ve gone
How far I’ve gone, how high I’ve climbed
On my back’s a sixty pound stone
On my shoulder a half mile line

… and the message of the song takes on new meaning, new urgency, as Springsteen’s words reverberate: We need someone to lead us in an American reclamation project … someone with Senator Obama’s understanding, temperateness, deliberativeness, maturity, compassion, toughness, and faith, to help us rebuild our house once again.

For an encore, he sings This Land is Your Land, opening with Obama’s mantra: Yes we can!

Only this version closes with a new verse, words that drift out over the field where sunlight streams. “I saw my people,” Bruce sings …

and some are wonderin’ … if this land’s still made, for you and me.

“Sing loud if you’re gonna take it back,” he says.

I can feel the beat in my feet, through the grass, rising up from the dirt.

“Let’s let ‘em hear in Washington!”

Yes we can! Yes we can! Yes we can!

“It’s up to you now, come on!” he says, the last chords fading out. ”Vote for Barack Obama for president. Let’s build that house. Yes, we can do it!”

Tags: Springsteen

This entry was posted on Monday, October 6th, 2008 at 12:48 am and is filed under Obama. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.