For a man I've never met, Bruce Springsteen has done a lot for me. He's given me two of my very favorite albums (Tunnel of Love and The River), he's given me a great concert experience, and he has given me and all New Jersey natives the certainty that there is at least one person to whom we can always point with pride. (Bon Jovi, why won't you go away???) And now he has gracefully encapsulated my feelings of pride, rage, and everything else that comes with being from a state I love, that treated me well, and for which, for whatever reason, some people actually expect me to apologize.**
From his speech at the New Jersey Hall of Fame back in May:
So let me finish with a Garden State benediction. Rise up my fellow New Jerseyans, for we are all members of a confused but noble race. We, of the state that will never get any respect. We, who bear the coolness of the forever uncool. The chip on our shoulders of those with forever something to prove. And even with this wonderful Hall of Fame, we know that there's another bad Jersey joke coming just around the corner.But fear not. This is not our curse. It is our blessing. For this is what imbues us with our fighting spirit. That we may salute the world forever with the Jersey state bird, and that the fumes from our great northern industrial area to the ocean breezes of Cape May fill us with the raw hunger, the naked ambition and the desire not just to do our best, but to stick it in your face. Theory of relativity anybody? How about some electric light with your day? Or maybe a spin to the moon and back? And that is why our fellow Americans in the other 49 states know, when the announcer says "and now in this corner, from New Jersey...." they better keep their hands up and their heads down, because when that bell rings, we're coming out swinging.
God Bless the Garden State.
Indeed. Now, pardon me as I cue up "The Ties That Bind".