Father's Day (June 16)

John S. Funaro (1923 - June 16, 1999)

     Probably what I love most about Bruce Springsteen's music is the songwriting craft of his lyrics.  Nobody paints a more vivid and detailed picture in your listening mind than Bruce does.  Whether those picture frames form a short one-act play or string themselves into a full feature film, Springsteen packs more intimately visual imagery into one song than most songwriters do on an entire album.  Equally as affecting is how he is also able to let the listener fill in his own blanks to the stories he tells, allowing for an autobiographical, and usually more meaningful experience and reaction to the songs.

     When it comes to music videos, Bruce only rarely (compared to the vast amount of songs in his catalog) makes them.  My guess is that he's keenly aware that most of his songs become personal to his fans in this autobiographical way.  And I'm sure he doesn't want his songs detracting from that interpersonal connection by showing just his interpretations of them.  Aside from the conspicuously forbidden lust video "I'm On Fire", Bruce's videos usually involve him singing with his guitar, and simply a myriad of atmospheric backgrounds.  Instead of visuals he lets his lyrics take care of the cinematography.

     When I made my own video to the song "When I'm Gone", I didn't have the luxury of letting my songwriting do the talking for me.  So instead, I used Brian Vander Ark's beautifully written lyrics and music and made them my own in my mind's eye.  Taking a page out of the same playbook Springsteen follows, Vander Ark allows the listener to extract his own personalized interpretation to the song.  And like so many of Bruce's songs, "Brilliant Disguise", "My Beautiful Reward", "The Promise" to name just a few, "When I'm Gone" became not just the artist's thoughts, but mine as well.


     After making The Ghost of Tom Joad album, Bruce said afterward that for decades he "keeps coming back to" John Steinbeck's classic The Grapes of Wrath, and John Ford's movie version of it.  The influence the book and movie had on him: the characters and their struggles, the experiences of both beauty and desolation, the cruelties of disparity and unfairness, and the joys of faith and family; those images stayed with him to coalesce into the exceptional storytelling on Tom Joad. 

     Most would call it nothing at all, but I'll call it my having a unique and similar personality trait to Bruce.  I too keep coming back to a film.  It's A Wonderful Life lacks the intricate depths of the human condition that The Grapes of Wrath delved into, but the similar message of the story is no less significant: The effect one person can have on his family and the lives of those around him.
     George Bailey's claim in It's a Wonderful Life that "it would have been better had I never been born" carries with it the same uncertainty.  The uncertainty of whether I've made a difference.  Of whether my existence matters much at all to anybody.


     Forget wealth, or prestige, or status.  What really matters about the life you live is the difference you've made in the lives around you.  I've yet to hear a eulogy about how much money the deceased made, or how many cars or homes he owned.  Instead, I hear about the person's character.  About his integrity.  About how he treated others and took care of his family.  About how kind and unselfish he was.  How his life made a truly unforgettable impact on others, helping them become better people.  

     The narrator in "When I'm Gone" philosophically contemplates his life thus far.  He ponders what, if any, significant impact he has had on his family, his friends, on humanity.  Has his life been worthwhile?  Has he lived a life to be admired?  Has he made a difference in the lives of others?  To the world?  Which leads to his repeated question that begs for an answer to his uncertainty: "...will they miss me when I'm gone?"

     Writing songs about himself is easy, Bruce has said.  Writing about someone else, well, that's a lot harder.  When I made the When I'm Gone video, the autobiographical images I put in were easy: my #9 college lacrosse jersey, the pictures of my three best friends, a personal clip from a front row Springsteen concert I was at.  The gravestone with my name on it.
     The images about Dad weren't as easy.  The first movie I saw with him--Rocky (still my favorite movie of all time) when I was 11.  The last movie I saw with him 21 years later--Saving Private Ryan, nine months before his death.  The gravestone with his name on it.

     Stumbling upon the gravestone in the video, was my weak attempt at Springsteen-ism, or allowing the listener (in this case the viewer) to decide on their own interpretation, whose gravestone it is.
     If it's mine, then the question of whether I've made any significant contribution in this life, whether I've made a difference in the lives of others, whether I'll be missed when I'm gone, remains uncertain.  If the gravestone is Dad's, then the answer to that question is easy. In Rocky's voice....Absolutely.