Soundtrack of Life, part IV: U2

The first time I saw U2 live was in 1983 on their "War" tour. They played the L.A. Sports arena, and the opening band was The Alarm. I went with a tennis playing friend from the University of Redlands, Rich Frederick, and until that night, we really had no idea who The Alarm was. At one point during their opening set, they were singing a song with lyrics that went "come on down and meet your maker, come on down and make the stand". At one point we looked at each other and were like "are they singing what I think they're singing?!?" Sure enough, we would later find out that The Alarm was the real deal, and would end up seeing them countless times, soaking up their songs, interviews and concerts like a sponge. As for the headlining band that night, because the "floor" of the arena had no chairs, the crowd up front was so out of control the concert had to be delayed about 30 minutes because of the pushing and shoving. It was nuts! Then, during the concert, midstream, Bono disappeared from the stage--right in the middle of a song--only to reappear in the upper deck across from where we were standing (no one sits at a U2 concert). He was then lowered--carefully--by fans back down to the lower level, and slowly made his way back to the front of the stage to finish the song.

In the decades that have followed, U2 has been the one musical constant in my life. I believe tonight at the Rose Bowl will be the 14th time I've seen them live--haven't missed a tour since that first show in '83. The last three times I have seen them have been in Las Vegas with my best friend from college, Brian Stomski. In the late '90s in a large outdoor venue for the Popmart tour (my least favorite of them all) when Rage Against the Machine opened. Then, in November of '01, they played the basketball arena on the UNLV campus. This was a couple months after 9/11, and was an intensely emotional evening. The band had changed up their show following the twin tower attacks, making the last encore song "Walk On" a memorial to those who lost their lives. Behind the band, as they were playing, a screen with the name of every victim scrolled down behind them. Pretty sure there was not a dry eye in the building. Then, four years ago, they played the arena inside the MGM (where they have all the big prize fights). I almost decided not to go--this was just a couple months after I had lost my mom to cancer. Lots of dry eyes in the crowd--but mine weren't cooperating.

Fast forward to tonight. Rose Bowl. Pasadena. My hometown. Spent the summer there clearing out the house my parents' lived in for 45 years following my father's death in January earlier this year. So, once again, U2 will be the backdrop for another chapter turn in my life, a soundtrack full of joy, full of pain, and once again, I will be joined by friends and strangers (although strangers at a U2 concert are a lot like friends) who might wonder why tears are streaming down my face. Funny thing is, I really don't care anymore. I am thankful those tear glands are in working order. Bring it on. Something very freeing, cleansing, even comforting about releasing one's emotions. I have never met Bono, The Edge, Larry and Adam (and probably never will)--but I count them as family, and always will.