Ramrod: Thanks, Big Man

I am a big Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band fan. I became a fan after relentlessly mocking my older sister Margie for liking him. "Mumble mumble mumble," I would tunelessly sing along to one of her Sprinsteen records, "nobody knows what I'm saying, and nobody cares, and it's definitely depressing." One day, she reached out with her perfectly manicured talons and forced me to read the lyrics as the record played. I did. And was utterly won over.

Clarence Clemmons, the sax player for the E Street Band, died this past weekend. It makes me so sad.

So, a little remembrance:

Right after college, I moved back into my folks' home. I came into the workforce at the height of a recession, and it was hard finding work. When I did find work (in Chicago), it paid poorly. In between paying off my student loans, paying off my outstanding balance at my college, paying my parents rent, and paying for my egregiously high monthly train pass from the Western suburbs into Chicago, I practically had only pennies to set aside to save for the security deposit on an apartment my older sister Chris and I were going to share in Chicago. Also, I had to wake up really early in the mornings to hitch a ride with Chris to the train station. The train got in at 6:45 a.m., I believe. I reported for work two blocks away at 8:30 a.m. I would sit in the great hall of Untion Station, reading. I would smoke two cigarrettes, then go to work. I felt like a formless lemming coming up out of Untion Station and walking the bridge over the cold Chicago River to my office. At lunchtime, I would go across the street from my office to the 48th floor of the Sears Tower. There, I would buy a Diet Coke and a Symphony chocolate bar, read, and smoke two more cigarrettes before returning to my office and closing out the day. Then I would head back to Union Station for the train back home. I would take an earlier train than Chris, so I would wait at my suburban train station for her to get to the station as well. By the time I got back to my parents' house, I had 45 minutes before I needed to go to bed for 8 hours of sleep (which, of course, I never did/got).

It wasn't a joyless existence--I got to catch up with my younger sister Carol every night (she was still in high school). I got to hang out with Chris on the train. And I read a lot. During this time, I read lots of classics--The Picture of Dorian Gray, The House of Seven Gables, all of Jane Austen--books that were already at home so I didn't have to buy them. But it was definitely a period where I felt aimless and insignificant.

I have a big family, so there was always lots of people at my folks' house. It was nice in a way to fall back into the old routines, but I missed the privacy I could get in my dorm room. One Friday night, I was in a really bad mood. When I got home, by some miracle, no one was there. I was able to find Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band's record, "The River," amongst my boxes brought from college. I went behind the sofa in the living room, opened up the lid to my dad's record player, turned the volume up to 10, pressed the lever to release the spring mechanism for the arm, intercepted the needle with my index finger as it was about to land on the first song, and placed it instead on "Ramrod."

From Bruce's opening counts, "uhhh-ONE-TWO-THREE-FOUR" and the guitar plucks, you know you're in for a jamboree. It is a rollicking good song: it's funny and irreverent and you cannot keep still listening to it. And--as in so many songs--Clarence wails out a sax solo that turns the song up even further.

And I danced.

Oh, say little darlin' with the blue jeans on--

I danced from behind the sofa and into the living room.

Wanna ramrod with ya honey 'til half-past dawn--

That wasn't big enough to contain me, so I danced out to the dining room.

Put yer hair down mama and pick up this beat--

All around the dining room tables and all the chairs.

Well I said come on come on come on pretty sugar--

Then, back to the living room.

Come on come on let's shake it tonight--

I danced like I was mad.

Come on little darlin' won't you say you will--

I danced and I danced.

Meet me tonight on the top of that hill!--

I was out of breath, so I threw myself on the sofa.

Well late at night when I'm dead on the line--

But my legs wouldn't stay still, so I got back up to dance.

I think of yer purty face when I lay there awhile--

And I danced some more.

Well come on now sugar see them city lights?--

As Clarence opened up on his solo, I went even crazier.

Well she's a roadrunner engine in the '32 Ford--

Arms and legs akimbo, I spun around and around.

Give me the word now sugar and we'll go ramroddin' forevermore--

All right!

I played that song over and over--a million times. Eventually, I heard the back door unlock--someone was arriving home. I ran to the record player, whipped the record off, turned the volume down, and ran upstairs for the bedroom I shared with Chris and Carol. Maybe I didn't want to break the happy spell. Maybe I didn't want to share.

But I felt a whole lot better.

Thanks, Big Man. Rest in peace.