by Jen (ISO of pics!)

Philly 10/17: I think heaven had a hand in this…

Give me a few minutes to explain: My mom passed away this February from cancer. She was only 52, and died from lung cancer, despite never smoking. It was a senseless death, and it’s made me so much more appreciative of Bono’s lyrics and heart in “Sometimes You Can’t…” It’s driven me to tears on occasion.

Anyway, my husband and I (who met because of U2 and went to a midnight sale of Zooropa for our first date—though that’s a story for another time) because of having to take care of parental responsibilities arrived at noon at the GA line, and I was crushed. I estimated that we were about 100th something in line, maybe securing a second or third row on the outside of the ellipse, I thought. Because we hadn’t made it in the ellipse before, I was hesitant to believe we were going to this time, and quietly dismissed those thoughts from my head so as to not be disappointed.

So when the time finally came for us to be admitted, I hurriedly stuck out my wrist for my GA band all the while watching the dozen or so people in front of me receive the news that they were proceeding to floor. And as my husband held out his ticket, I just felt that the odds were with us and that we’d maybe get a little heavenly intervention and finally get into the ellipse. And when those 3 precious “Vertigo!” words popped up on screen, I popped up from my feet and couldn’t help myself but scream! We were in! And not only were we in, we were second row and dead center. Unbelieveable! [And as an aside, amazingly better than the $2k we paid to a ticket agency for front row (side) tickets to see PopMart on our one-year anniversary—definitely the worst financial decision of our married lives.]

Like any other rabid U2 fan, I’ve spent countless hours dreaming of winning some contest to sit down and talk to them, bumping into one of them on the streets of Dublin, getting pulled up on stage, or even just getting an autograph or a kiss from Bono. But I’ve always thought that if I could just touch Bono—even if just for a second—that would do it for me. I’d be happy. And being rather tall and having secured such prime real estate in front of the stage, I thought maybe, just maybe, I’d get to fulfill that.

Even the sourest critics will tell you there was something heavenly about last night’s performance. That the energy was there, that the band was there, and that there was something special in the air, and it was carrying the band. I could tell when Edge closed his eyes in the middle of the groove, absorbed in the moment; or when Adam tossed smile after smile at those of us in the front rows; but mostly, I knew that it had hit Bono when he balanced himself on the rail right in front of us and leaned in, and my hands held him—one on his thigh and the other on his stomach, with my husband’s hands on his other leg and on his chest. And we held him like that for what seemed like 3 minutes, relishing in such a magical moment while also wondering if the boy inside the man still had the desire to be carried by the crowd as he did during shows 25 years ago…

But mostly, I knew that heaven had something to do with the evening’s greatest surprise. See, my mom, spent the last 5 years of her life going to as many Bruce Springsteen shows as possible. She discovered the internet because of Bruce-themed message boards, she dragged my poor dad (and his wallet) to places he had never been on the east coast, and at one time when he was tired of going to 5 shows in Philly, she dragged mid-20ish me, who was semi-embarrassed at the way my mid-to-late 40ish mom was acting and how she melted when the Boss took the stage.

And so did I when it happened last night. Thanks, Mom, for having your hand in that.

Jenny

PS: If anyone has a shot of us holding Bono, I'd be SO appreciative! Thanks! jenhybr@hotmail.com

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