When a Friendship is Golden

September, 1973 - 50 years ago, and there was a lot going on across the Big Blue Marble.  Star Trek the Animated Series was making its television debut.  Hank Aaron was busy making baseball home run history.  Billie Jean King beat Bobby Riggs in the tennis Battle of the Sexes. Barbra Streisand released the Way We Were single (which went on to become the Billboard Single of the Year.)  And at St. Margaret's School where I was starting the fourth grade, I bumped into a new kid, a transfer in from St. Patrick's School, one of the city of Lowell's other Catholic Schools.

That was when I first met Mike Cassidy.

Interestingly, St. Margaret's split its classes in two - A and B, and Mike and I were never officially in the same class there, likely because the nuns knew the volatility of the combination were we to be paired up in the same room.

But somehow, me and this kid from Foster Street - another Highlands boy, me, hailing from D Street, connected and became fast - and, as it turned out - lifelong friends.

And anyone who knows anything about either of us won't be shocked to learn it was comic books that brought us together.

At that young age of 9, I was primarily a Marvel Comics fan, though I did dabble in a decent smattering of DC Comics.  And Mike was primarily a DC guy, with Batman topping his buy list.  I still remember some of the first comics I know Mike owned that I didn't, and thankfully, this was in the day when you traded comics back and forth to read.

I offer up all of that background, because in the ensuing years, those two comic book geeks have remained friends, and to this day, are still hanging in there, through FIVE DECADES of shared memories, including way, way, way too many that should never see print, and certainly won't in this blog.

We've travelled back and forth across the United States together, were Best Men in one another's weddings, have raised our children together, and attended more than a hundred rock concerts together, many of them being not surprisingly, Bruce Springsteen shows.

Wonder Bread super-hero cards, Looney Tunes jelly jars?  3D baseball cards in cereal boxes?  We collected and experienced them together.

Our parents, especially our Irish fathers, used to jokingly refer to us as "Pat and Mike," which apparently hearkened back to two blokes from an Irish joke tandem, though the references were usually lost on us.

Mike and I would finish grades 4-8 together, continuing to make new memories along the way,  likedoling out Star Wars calendars and suffering together through the Sgt. Pepper's remake movie featuring the Bee Gees.

And then it was on to high school and a lot of Hiding on the BackStreets.

This time, the nuns didn't know enough to keep us in different classes, though they did learn quickly, separating us our sophomore and junior years.

Senior Year Field Day captains, rocking our Springsteen tees and realizing one of Sister Theresa's worst nightmares - having to pose for a picture with Mike and I.

The circle of friends started to expand, and the likes of Tom Beaupre, Tommy and Barry Scanlon, Scott Spence and John Piekos joined the mix, creating, literally the OG E Streeters pack of friends, who made their bones breaking hearts and tearing up the volleyball and basketball courts at UMass Lowell, where Mike and I would once again reunite in the halls of kinda-learning.

There were literally dozens upon dozens of other friends drawn into this ever-expanding circle through the ensuing decades.  Some we've lost to geography, some to death, some to the evolution of relationships that just naturally take people along different paths in their lives.

So how does one encapsulate five decades of friendship?  It's impossible.  Period.

But hopefully this quick peppering of images from throughout those years will give folks some insight into the kinds of shared experiences that go into charting a friendship for the ages.

Unforgettable memories, like cutting classes to party at Boston Celtics championship rallies, where Mike could capture an epic picture of me shaking Kevin McHale's hand.

Or busting out of class to wait in line for Springsteen tickets.

The Summer of '87 sent us off on a month-long, No Surrender coming-of-age 10,000 mile voyage from coast-to-coast.  On the Road along the way, we followed the Celtics through their championship series against the Los Angeles Lakers, culminating in a life-and-death situation where we fled the LA Forum for our lives in my feeble red Renault Encore.

But we also managed to check in at some epic national treasures.

Meeting down at the Cadillac Ranch

Grand Canyon climbers

Yosemite Sams

Grand again, this time, at the Tetons

Five years later, August 15, 1992, and he stood up for me at my wedding, just a few weeks after throwing together an unforgettable bachelor party trip to see Springsteen at the Meadowlands. 

Yes, we were those fathers guilty of the adorable babies Halloween pics, too

In the ensuing years, as we both began our families, career paths would place us a few doors away from one another, Mike working at the Lowell Fire Department, me at the Lowell Police Department.

And apparently both of us could wear racing singlets three sizes too large.

As you can see, we continued to stand up for one another as we shared any number of life events, including sports banquets for our children at Lowell High School

Occasionally, there was a broccoli vegetable tray that went awry at some of the kids' birthday celebrations.  The less said about those, the better, but they might explain Mike's smile here.

We got hammered together on many occasions.  But in the end, I feel like we were worthy.

Comic books stayed in the background throughout the half century tapestry of friendship, with more than a few trips together into comic conventions or local comic shops.

We even ended up together on the cover of an issue of the amazing Spider-Man.

Yeah, we fancied ourselves Agents of Shield

We swore blood brothers against the wind, Springsteen tailgate colleagues

Almost annually, there were meet-ups at the home of twenty-five cent hotdogs every holiday season in Newburyport

Sometimes, the birthday celebrations were our own

As youths, we envisioned ourselves becoming masked heroes in our latter years.  Little did we know.

The guy who helped bring us together over common ground back in 1973 would make his return

We've walked and run many a mile Racing in the Streets along the same pathways

Japanese steak houses?  We've done 'em

And of course, we've shared many a memory at the Lowell Folk Festivals.

Especially when it comes to the Polish pierogies, an ethnic treat Mike introduced me to early on thanks to his Polish grandparents.

Which brings us to the present, and lo, another Springsteen tailgate, this most recent one at Gillette Stadium just last month.  

Time has taken its toll on each of us, as it inevitably does to all of us.  There's been lots of changes along those five decades of history.  Both of us have lost our parents along the way.  We've been there for one another through some of the worst of times, yes, but unquestionably, also some of the best.

It's rare that anything lasts a half century these days, especially a grammar school friendship when so many differing pathways emerge to divert one in different directions.

Yet somehow, all those roads still lead to the same Backstreets, and the courses of our lives continue to flow along common roads.

And in the end, we became living proof that the Marvel and DC universes could join together successfully, and a pair of Highlands kids joined by their common interest in comic books found a way to forge a friendship that has stood the test of time.

And will for many years still to come.

We played king of the mountain out on the end

The world come charging up the hill, and we were women and men

Now there's so much that time, time and memory fade away

We got our own roads to ride and chances we got to take

We stood side by side each one fighting for the other

And we said until we died we'd always be blood brothers

- Blood Brothers, by Bruce Springsteen

There's Still Magic in the Night

It was December 3 1975, and my brother Jimmy had just celebrated his 22nd birthday.  He and a friend were about to use a birthday gift he received from that friend: a pair of concert tickets for an up and coming rocker named Bruce Springsteen.  That night at the Music Hall, the screen door slammed in the opening notes of Thunder Road, and Mary's dress would sway/wave and light the collective fuse of a musical and bonding movement for my family and friends that would cross five decades.

The 26-year-old musician from Freehold, New Jersey, had just released his third album, an LP entitled Born to Run.  (The anniversary release date of that album, just coincidentally, was wedged between Springsteen's latest two local shows this week - August 25th).  What followed was a kinetic musical explosion still hallowed till this day, one that didn't end that night until a Quarter to Three.

Jimmy and his friend were lucky enough to witness that show, and five years later in December, 1980, he would take his 16-year-old brother in tow to yet another brothers concert outing - following on the heels of my first live concerts, David Bowie, Queen and the Who.  Those Springsteen shows in the Boston Garden and in Providence, R.I. would notch my first live Springsteen pilgrimages.

Four years later, on July 27, 1984 at Saratoga Springs, New York, the Bruce-net would widen, and several of my elementary and high school buddies would take their first live drink of Bruce Kool-Aid, as Bruce and friends slid into a cover of Credence Clearwater Revival's Who'll Stop the Rain to console the soaked masses huddled together in the New York downpour.

Eight years later, a Meadowlands concert would play host to my bachelor party, details of which cannot be revealed within this blog.

Flash forward to 2023, that same group has continued to expand in its numbers one by one by one, with more friends, spouses, and eventually, our children, joining the followers.  (Like the E Street Band, we've sadly lost some of those friends along the way, but they remain with us as a proverbial Spirit in the Night whenever the opening chords are struck during the live performances.)

Collectively, our immediate circle has attended more than five hundred shows in various combinations, checking out Springsteen performances not just across the United States, but overseas as well.

And this week, we indoctrinated two more first-timers into the experience that has shaped our musical lives, a live concert with Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band.

I'm proud to stand alongside our two newest live show converts - my beautiful daughter Heather and her fiance Ryan Fandl, a bonafide transplant from somewhere in the Swamps of Jersey.

Andrew, a longtime acolyte who's attended nearly two dozen Bruce shows with me since his first on May 27th, 2006 at the tender age of 12, gives his seal of approval to one of our new attendees.

A concert at Gillette Stadium in Foxboro always affords us the opportunity for a gathering of friends, family, folklore and urban legend reminiscing at a mandatory tailgate party, complete, of course with a vat of Scott's Top 10 Chili (Trademark, me)

This particular night, we had a healthy representation of E Streeter testosterone in attendance

Thankfully, we were kept grounded by our better halves

And for ye humble writer, the first time in 43 years of Springsteen shows where I had the entirety of my six-pack of a growing family able to attend a Bruce show with me.

Let's dispense with the feedbag and get over to Gillette, where we needed to disperse throughout the stadium into our respective seats.  One last group shot before we parted ways.

Inside Gillette, it was No Retreat, No Surrender as soon as Bruce and the E Street Band stepped onto the stage.

A light rain that fell during She's the One and the Rising created some effectively mood lighting and particularly enhanced the latter of those songs.

Anyone who has attended live Springsteen show knows how physically and emotionally draining his shows can be, both for him, but also for those watching the tapestry of songs.  Past outings usually run 3-4 hours long, marathon outings that set the bar for pulse-pounding rapid fire successions of literally hundreds of different songs that have marked the various stages of Springsteen's career.  (Our last Bruce show at Gillette in 2016  officially clocked in over four hours as the second-longest show of his career, though our on-scene stopwatches actually marked it as the longest.)

A couple of sidebars to emphasize the gravity of me getting to experience my daughter's first Bruce Show. Heather was born five days after I met Bruce at show at the Lowell Memorial Auditorium.  (Special props to her mom for not letting her water break prematurely so I could attend said show.)

Part two: More than two decades ago, when I would drive Heather and Andrew to school in the early mornings, indeed, when Heather was only three and still in a car seat, in between Disney movie soundtracks, they were subjected to me usually listening to Springsteen music on CDs or the radio.

In Heather's case, it allowed her to learn and belt out angelic and melodious front-to-back lyrics for Springsteen classics such as Born to Run, My City of Ruins, and her guaranteed go-to, Thunder Road.

Fast forward to 2023, the night was busting open and I was able to take another ride down Thunder Road, belting out those lyrics alongside Heather, now a grown woman.

A core memory that I will take with me the rest of my days.

What has changed in recent years - which not everyone would agree has been a positive evolution, is the addition of tens of thousands of cell phone cameras that allow concert-goers to document their personal sojourns through the shows.

While not all view the multimedia inclusion as a positive thing, it does allow everyone to help chronicle their personal concert experience, and in many cases, especially when the lights go up, document the mania and sheer joy of experiencing these shows together with friends and family. 

Moments such as these, with Katie and Jackie (and now Ryan) sticking with us for better or for worse:

Finally, the encores kick in as the unofficial/official anthem for E Street Nation, Born to Run, roars in  on that 1-2-3-4 countdown, and the boundless euphoria takes over and the collective 60,000 fans unite as one in their shared experience of a runaway American Dream.

For this version of Scooter and the Big Man, it's a glorious zenith of energy and jubilance as we unleash our personal dreams and visions on a highway jammed with broken heroes.

And just like that, just shy of three hours, the last chords are struck and the Last Man Standing closes out the evening with a reminder that it's never really quite the end.

I'll see you in my dreams

When all our summers have come to an end

I'll see you in my dreams

We'll meet and live and laugh again

I'll see you in my dreams

Yeah, up around the river bend

For death is not the end

And I'll see you in my dreams

If you're still reading up to this point, thanks for coming along on this sojourn with all of us.

Welcome to the newest members of E Street Nation, as well as the ones who have not yet been indoctrinated into our musical crusade.

And yeah, as Bruce would say, and Heather and I would reinforce in our father-daughter duet - maybe we ain't that young anymore, but show a little faith.

There still is Magic in the Night.