Sky of Mercy, Sky of Fear
It’s the 22nd anniversary of 9/11. I’ve written about my experience before, so I won’t go into it here. It’s a day that gets both a little easier and a little harder every year. My brain is always swirling with thoughts and memories, but today my ADHD brain fixates on the thing that always gets me through: Music. It anchors me in place.
There are two songs I listen to without fail on this day every year - Tori Amos’ cover of Time by Tom Waits (she was the first musical guest on Letterman after 9/11, and literally took a bus back from Florida to get there), and Bruce Springsteen’s gorgeous hymn The Rising.
I was pretty late on the Springsteen bandwagon. Don’t get me wrong, I never DISLIKED Bruce Springsteen. Who could dislike Bruce? He was The Boss! I was little when Born in the USA came out but it was everywhere! Courteney Cox! My mom openly lusted after him - I mean, have we SEEN the Glory Days video? That ass in those jeans on the album cover? The man could get it. Anytime. Sexy, talented, charismatic, with some good tunes. What wasn’t to like? Like who doesn’t like Born to Run?
My husband was a big Bruce fan growing up. Over the years, he introduced me to his Bruce - pre Born in the USA Bruce. I listened to his back catalog, and while I enjoyed it, it didn’t turn me into a massive fan the way it did for so many. The songs I loved, though, I REALLY loved - Jungleland, Tenth Avenue Freeze Out, Growin’ Up, I’m on Fire, Thunder Road, and many others. I also watched some footage of his earlier concerts and was amazed by his performances. No question that he deserves every bit of his legacy, but still, I wasn’t moved to spend the cash to go see him when the E Street Band came around from time to time.
Several years ago, I bought my husband a copy of his autobiography, and when he was done reading it, I picked it up. It was an insightful and fascinating look back at a remarkable life and career. I came away from reading it appreciating the genuinely good dude that this man is, knowing full well with that kind of fame and money he absolutely could have been a dick. He did a thing few straight men do - he went to therapy and figured himself out. He was able to proceed with his life and his career from a place of empathy and awareness that very few people do. I revisited his back catalog having read the book, and was a much bigger fan.
When Bruce did his Broadway show, I was tempted to try to get tickets, but of course the tickets were sold out and the tickets available on StubHub were outrageously expensive. One day, I got a notification from Ticketmaster that the run had extended, and did I want to sign up for access to tickets? I thought, why not? To my amazement, the day the tickets went on sale, I managed to grab balcony seats for face value. They were under $100. I almost felt guilty, as I know many superfans who would have KILLED to get a ticket to that show. It felt like hitting Lotto.
On a cold December night in 2018, we headed to the show. My husband and I arrived at the venue, which was buzzing with excitement, and I went to grab a drink. When I came back to my seat, my husband leaned in and told me that the people next to him had paid $1500 a ticket on StubHub. I had a moment of regret, as getting $3K for the tickets I bought could have paid our mortgage for two months. Any regret I had completely vanished when Bruce Springsteen walked out on stage and played one note on his acoustic guitar. The man had me in the palm of his hand from the word go. It was one of the greatest live experiences of my life.
When he went on tour this year with the band, I asked for tickets for my birthday. I needed the E Street Band experience at least once, and what better place to see it than at MetLife in New Jersey? We went last weekend. I was not disappointed. For three straight hours, the man commanded a stadium as ably as he did a small Broadway house. It was raucous and joyous and moving. I’m glad we went. He’s 73 years old. Who knows how much longer he’ll be out there rocking? It’s weird to see our heroes age, but when he’s on stage, he’s ageless.
He played The Rising at both the Broadway show and the MetLife concert, and I wept both times. I didn’t always like The Rising. When it was released, it was a little less than a year after 9/11, and the right wing lurch of the country was in full swing. I was tired of the hero worship - especially of the police - and while of course I have nothing but respect for the first responders who gave their lives, I was uncomfortable with the blanket assumption that every person in a uniform was somehow above reproach, or that their lives mattered more than the three thousand others we lost the day. I knew Springsteen’s politics were usually in the right place, but the first time I heard the song I kind of rolled my eyes. I was just over it. I wasn’t in the place to receive it.
Over the years, it grew on me like mold. There was something about it that just started to hit me in my heart. When I became more familiar with Bruce as a person, and his music, I decided to listen to the entire record. While it’s not my personal favorite Bruce Springsteen album, I realized he was doing something very specific. He was giving the working class people he grew up with - his New Jersey community that lost so many - a way to grieve. He did this without racism, xenophobia, or hero worship. Many of the response albums to 9/11 were right wing propaganda gussied up as disingenuous grief. This record is not that, and this song especially is not. It simply tells the story of a firefighter heading up the stairs of the World Trade Center that morning, their gear on their back. It begins as narrative and ends as prayer:
I see you Mary in the garden
In the garden of a thousand sighs
There's holy pictures of our children
Dancing in a sky filled with light
May I feel your arms around me
May I feel your blood mix with mine
A dream of life comes to me
Like a catfish dancing on the end of the line
Sky of blackness and sorrow (A dream of life)
Sky of love, sky of tears (A dream of life)
Sky of glory and sadness (A dream of life)
Sky of mercy, sky of fear (A dream of life)
I just finished a new play that is partially about the aftermath of 9/11. It was hard to write. This was on the playlist I used to get myself to the space I needed to work on it. I listened to it this morning as I had my annual cry. Music is as close to prayer as I get, and my hearty thanks to Bruce for writing such a beautiful one.