What else can we do now?

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An old song on the radio can recall memories of an earlier time in life. I was a far different person in the 80s than I am today, but I always like to hear music from that period. Makes me realize how different things can become, I suppose.

But this is not about a piece of music from the 80s. When Bruce Springsteen–one of the more frequent muses found on this site–released the album containing “Thunder Road,” I was too young to understand anything about the song. The old tourist t-shirt slogan “I wasn’t born here, but I got here as quick as I could” certainly applies to me and the music of the Boss. Most of us are probably that way, I imagine.

Today I heard a live performance of “Thunder Road” from a concert in 1978. Having satellite radio in the car is the only way that could happen, and it makes it worth the subscription fee for precisely that reason.

When the song came on, I hearkened back to the fall of 2002, and a time when I was out in Seattle, driving a rental car with a guy named Karl. Last names and where he was from aren’t that important. He’s either running the town by now or he’s moved on to someplace else. Neither possibility would surprise me very much.

I was working with Karl, and a dozen or so other Washington teachers, to build their state testing program assessments. The school kids who had to wrestle with our work product back then are all out living their adult lives now, or at the very least they’re nearing the end of their college careers. Time marches on, as always.

Me and Karl–that’s grammatically incorrect, but it feels right to put it that way–both appreciated Springsteen’s music, and so we sang Thunder Road together, as loudly as we could, thanks to a bunch of CDs I used to take with me when I traveled.

Today I sang the song again, as loudly as any middle-aged man should ever do, and I thought about Karl, and music, and the power it has to alter the passage of time, at least temporarily. May everyone have a song or experience that can take them back to another place or another time. And may they also have a few minutes to reflect on it, as I’m doing on a Chicago subway train right now. Because if it doesn’t make it onto the Internet anymore, did it ever really happen?

Well the night’s busted open, these two lanes will take us anywhere.

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