Highway Patrolman
I used to love talking about Bruce Springsteen’s album Nebraska. His most profound artistic statement, I would say. His most authentic voice. Not nearly as accessible or radio-friendly as Born to Run or Born in the USA, but that only made me like it more. It made me feel like a true fan. Like I had done the work to sift through the vast Springsteen catalog and pan the gold. Like I knew something the greatest hits owners did not. I remember running out to buy Nebraska after reading a nearly religious description of it in some Springsteen biography. The record did not disappoint. Springsteen alone in his garage with a four-track recording machine and only his guitar, harmonica and voice to fill it. Doing what he does best – telling other peoples’ stories through their own eyes. No guitar solos. No band. No wall-of-sound production. Raw. And nonpareil in its empathy for those tortured by the inexplicable darkness in this world.
My younger brother Greg called me right after he completed in-patient treatment for addiction in February 2019. I asked him how he was feeling, but I don’t remember his response. Probably a shaky attempt to assure both of us that he was doing okay. What I do remember from that conversation – and will never forget – is that he told me that every patient had the opportunity to choose a song to share with the whole group during their last session before discharge. He chose “Highway Patrolman,” my favorite song on Nebraska. And he dedicated it to me.
Highway Patrolman is a story of two brothers. Springsteen tells it through the eyes of Joe Roberts, an upstanding, honest cop who always tries to do the right thing. His brother Franky is a Vietnam vet who has been nothing but trouble since they were young. Try as he might, Franky cannot escape his demons. Joe does not make excuses for him. Joe does not blame his actions on whatever happened to Franky during the war. Joe just tells us, right up front, “I got a brother named Franky, and Franky ain’t no good.” But Joe loves Franky. And their bond is the one thing in Joe’s life that does not play by the rules. As he says, “If it were any other man, I'd put him straight away / but when it's your brother sometimes you look the other way.” No matter how much Joe tried to help him, Franky just couldn’t change. He kills someone in a bar fight and flees the scene. Joe, duty-bound, jumps in his squad car and gives chase. He catches up to Franky, but then stops and lets him escape across the border into Canada. Joe’s explanation is striking and simple: “man turns his back on his family, well he just ain’t no good.”
After Greg died, I thought I would never be able to listen to Highway Patrolman again. Not because I think the story is an accurate depiction of our relationship. It isn’t. I am far from perfect. And Greg certainly wasn’t “no good.” He was just sick. With a terrible, unforgiving disease that never allows a fair fight. I am heartbroken by his loss. And sad that he felt such pervasive shame for his battle with addiction. That he was afraid of the judgment of others, and that his fear was, unfortunately, not unfounded given the rampant misinformed, uninformed or simply antiquated views about addiction. That needs to change. No one suffering from addiction disease should ever feel that they are “no good.” They are just sick, just like people with cancer, diabetes or any other medical pathology are sick. They are also our family. And they are our friends. They need all the help, all the understanding, and all the compassion we can give them to help them fight the good fight.
I listened to Highway Patrolman tonight for the first time since Greg’s death. I love that our relationship was so special to him that I was the person he thought of when it was his turn to dedicate a song at such a profound moment in his life. But I wish that his song had not been Highway Patrolman. And I hope that we can channel the raw and unmitigated pain of his loss to change public perception, foster evidence-based understanding and eliminate the unwarranted and destructive shame of this disease – so that no one struggling with it ever again thinks of Highway Patrolman as a song that tells their story.
DCM
8.10.19