Rick Springfield vs Bruce Springsteen

Podcast + Essay

https://api.substack.com/feed/podcast/10721/private/970fcd3f-76ab-490d-bc35-8b564b4a8426.rss ← That’s the RSS link to paste into your podcast app.

I’m trying out something a little different this time. I was planning on just writing this essay, but as I was telling my therapist this story earlier — I thought, why not podcast it as well? I don’t see any valid reason not to. Honestly, it was while I was going back through it all out loud in my car on the way to pick up my kids. I thought this story is so much funnier when told out loud. I think anyway.

My poor therapist. I will say, sometimes I view my appointments as places to try out comedy material. Not necessarily new in this case, as it’s a story I’ve told many people. It has some new nuances, though.

What reminded me of it is that I was telling my therapist that my boys’ Christmas lists consist of game cards. And that’s it. Steam cards, Robux, VR games… All they want is games and game money, all with cards. My thoughts were that it’s so lame to have one type of gift. Sure, I can get different amounts on cards and wrap each one separately in boxes and whatnot, but all of one type of gift? It just seems so lame! I want to get them a variety of things to open.

When I was their ages…pretty much from about the age of ten or eleven on, my entire Christmas list would be albums. That was all I wanted. I would have been in heaven to open only albums on Christmas! There were so many I wanted. I always kept a running list. Music was my best friend, my love, and my biggest interest.

I’m sure, my mom thought just like I am thinking right now. I can’t get her all of one type of gift…how lame?!?!

A couple of weeks ago, I was driving to the library with two of my kids. Their dad texted, so I had the car read it.

“Did you see that Rick Springfield is coming to the Quad Cities? Maybe you can take your mom and tell her it’s Bruce Springsteen tickets.”

So, I told them the story. THE story. The one that defines my childhood Christmases. The one that defines my mother. (It’s not a negative on my mom, just a funny, and if you know her, you know).