Orel Family

September 19, 2008: Thirty years ago today, my life changed a little. No, I wasn't there. I was up in my bedroom 20 miles away from Passaic's Capitol Theater, 7 months from having a driver's license, alone with my combo radio/tape recorder, listening quietly for the first time to Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band play live. I had gotten in to Bruce the summer before... well, the summer before the summer before. But here was the lawsuit, and the endless wait for the album. Now, finally, there were concerts, and WNEW had announced this one. ON THE RADIO. WNEW was kinda like Bruce radio at that time, a seeming bastion of sanity in the disco wasteland. They'd had a midnight playing of Darkness the night before it was released... which of course I taped off the radio. But now, 'round 'bout Labor Day, they said, "special announcement at 9pm!," and so I tuned in. Special announcement -- Bruce, in concert, on the radio! September 19, and...

Just like that, it was over. As an official sort of thing, anyway. In Jewish tradition, it is customary to be in mourning for 11 months after the death of a parent. Some traditions hold that it is 11 months from the date of death, others hold that it is 11 months from the date of burial, and yet other hold that it is 11 months from the date of death unless the burial is delayed by 3 or more days, in which case it is from the date of the burial (insert joke about having 2 possibilities and therefore 3 opinions here ). We went with 11 months from date of burial. So, stepping back to last September 1, the mourning period ended on Wednesday, July 23. I'm no longer required to say kaddish for my father except during yizkor and yahrzeit , and his name will no longer be read, except for yahrzeit . Or, perhaps more accurately, I'm required to stop. Over the days approaching July 23, I thought quite a bit about this particular end. Typically, there's a ceremony at th...

The days are long and hot. I've gone through the cherries, and the strawberries, and on to the red raspberries and now my hands and arms are sore from the prickers of the black raspberries. The snap peas grew, were snapped up and devoured. Lettuce, too. I've done battle with the mosquitoes to get to the summer apples. And still, no tomatoes! Waiting, waiting, waiting. Lori plants the seeds in February, they grow under grow-lights in the basement until April 1, but this year was later as the weather stayed cold. Then, outside in the walls of water. And, finally when frost is no longer a threat, uncovered. Sometimes the cherries will be ready first, but usually a hybrid variety called 4th of July. Every year, it seemed, we'd get a mention in the Detroit Free Press for early tomatoes; our best was one year when a cherry delivered on May 31. This year, though, there was nothing early. The poplars next door blocked out too much sun. Nothing in June. Got back fro...

Van Morrison doesn't make it to Detroit very often. He was here in 2006, and before then, I have no idea, but it was before I first came here in 1991. I missed that 2006 show, and determined to see Van Morrison perform sometime in my life, joined his mailing list so I'd get a notice on a pre-sale should he ever return. That night happened on Wednesday, and I didn't miss out this time. Though, with Morrison's price structure -- $300 for prime seats -- I found myself 3/4 of the way back on the floor, where it was somewhat more affordable. Two days before the show, I received a reminder email, including this notice: "There is no late seating for this performance. The concert is scheduled to start at 7:30pm sharp. Seating for late arriving guests will only be accommodated at specific intervals during the performance." Just like at the symphony, I guess. I didn't know quite whether that notice would be accurate, but I wasn't about to chance it. ...

WE DID IT!! Tour de Cure 2008 is over. Sunday morning, Aaron and I participated in the 25-mile bike ride out of Brighton. This was an ambitious ride for Aaron; he'd never gone more than 15 before. And, it would be a special challenge, as predictions called for extreme heat. Everything in the basic setup for the right involves a bit of nerves. There's the fundraising, of course (and there's still time for a bit more of that). The liability waivers and emergency contact forms. And... the bike rack. When I was 16, my dad loaded me up in the station wagon to go off to summer school in Massachusetts, and we loaded my 10-speed bike up on the rack. Out the driveway he backed, oblivious to the angle of descent in to the road and the many little bumper scrapes over the years. I remember feeling a repetitive bumping sensation in the car, followed by a scream to dad to stop the car! But it was too late, my bicycle resembled Curious George's after he hit the rock. ...

The afternoon before my father's funeral last September, our family met with the rabbi. He explained Jewish customs of mourning. I knew most of them, but there was one that was new to me: during the 11-month mourning period, it was prohibited to attend any performance of live music (unless required by profession). I immediately thought, I don't think I can observe that one. Springsteen is going to tour with the E Street Band. Danny's been ill. I can't wait a year. I need to be there. Ten days have passed since Danny Federici died. I’ve read eulogies. at the funeral. From fans. From former colleagues. Many eloquent eulogies, and a groundswell of emotion. I didn’t expect any of this, or my own reaction. I know of Danny Federici, of course, because of his 4-decade long association with Springsteen. I became a fan in 1977, so it’s more than 30 years for me. But, in all the time I’ve followed Bruce, my attention has always been on Bruce. Of course I ...

My report from the Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band concert in Columbus, March 24, 2008, as published on the official Bruce Springsteen website . Before the Cincinnati show, I told some friends that just once, I'd like to be "between the mics," that small portion of the front of the pit between Bruce and Steve. The lottery odds of that are rather small, of course, but last night my number came in. So, any veneer of objectivity I might otherwise pretend in a review will be absent in this one, there's just no way. My ears are still ringing, I'm operating on three hours sleep, I have a meeting with a new boss in half an hour, and, and... I'm feeling just fine. Even taking into account a once-in-a-lifetime (so far) position, I've seen Bruce enough times (73) to know that last night's show was pretty hot. Right from the opening salvo of "The Ties That Bind," Bruce and the band were on a mission. Shaking things up just four songs in to t...