As I sit around the table on this lazy Sunday morning, surrounded by my parents and grandfather, we're chatting and reading the paper. I'm reading an article about the passing of Clarence Clemons, long-time Bruce Springsteen saxophonist and music legend. I'm struck by how sad I am at the loss of a person I never met, but had the pleasure of seeing in concert many times. I'm compelled to rationalize my tears and I suddenly realize how much the music has meant to my family.
My mother and her friend Barbara brought me and my friend Bethany to our first Springsteen show. Bethany and I were ten years old. We had floor seats, tenth row center and couldn't see over the adults in front of us. We jumped up on our seats and began to sing our hearts out. Our mothers were worried the people behind us would be annoyed but they smiled at us and sang along. They told us they were impressed that we knew all the words. That's the thing about a Bruce show- it was an experience to be shared among strangers. The music brought you to a place of joy and you knew you were all in the presence of greatness. And when Clarence hit those notes in "Jungleland" or "Born to Run", man, it brought the house down.
I was so moved by the music, when fourth grade rolled around and it was time to select an instrument to play, I chose the saxophone. I liked it because no one else wanted to play it and because I had seen Clarence play. I was going to be cool. I could imagine myself rocking out, playing a solo, just as smooth as Clarence. I didn't last very long because I was a scrawny ten-year-old and the weight of the saxophone strapped around my neck hurt and the case weighed more than I did, but I was a rock star for a year. I have Clarence to thank for that.
My parents always had music on in the house and always made sure we knew who we were listening to. My sister and I have such an appreciation for good music, especially the artists my parents grew up with. They always had a story to go along with a song- a first dance, a trip down the shore with friends, or the story of how my then-thirteen-year-old mother was disappointed she couldn't go to Woodstock.
In an age where music isn't really music at all and just some noise produced in a studio, I value the artists my parents exposed me to. In fact, when I got my first apartment after college, I took my parents record player and their records and set up shop. To this day, when I clean the house, I throw on "Born in the U.S.A." and dance as I dust, just as my mother did all those years ago.
Clarence Clemons' music will be missed and his absence on the stage will be noticeable. Bruce Springsteen shows will never be the same but we'll always have the records.
Tutor's Tip: Sharing your love of music will strengthen your bond with your children as it gives them a clear picture of your history and connects them to you in the present.
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