Tom Petty is My George Washington

This weekend, watching Tom Petty play “Refugee,” singing along with 15,000 of my closest friends, I had a true patriotic moment. Some people get all warm and fuzzy when they see a bald eagle flying overhead. Some when they see the iconic painting of George Washington crossing the Delaware, and some when they watch the Blue Angels perform meticulously choreographed stunts overhead.

For me, hearing Mike Campbell, lead guitarist for the Heartbreakers, wail away as thousands of strangers watch in amazement represents everything that is great about America.

I grew up listening to Tom Petty, so I am more than familiar with the words to most of his hits. I do not own a Tom Petty album, nor would I rank him in my top 50 musicians/artists/performers of all time, even if such a list did exist. I did not even plan on going to the concert until a friend invited me and gave me the ticket.

What is so great about Tom Petty, and numerous artists like him that I could easily include in the same category, is that they are part of the American narrative. When Stevie Nicks made a guest appearance at the show and the duo sang a few covers from their heyday, the number of people singing along did not decrease at all. The crowd had come to see Petty, but sang just as loudly to hits by the Yardbirds and pre-Nicks Fleetwood Mac. These people knew their music. People from all over the state (and who knows where else) had converged on that place, and they all had something in common: they knew the words to the same songs. And this made them happy.

The kind of happiness that Tom Petty induces is an innocent and simple happiness. It has no caveats. Unlike other, more traditional sources of patriotism, it doesn’t have to remind me of the millions that have given their lives so that I might enjoy my freedom. No happiness with a side of guilt. I can be happy just because this song is cool.

Other things have this effect on me, too. Train engineers that wave back. A freshly paved farm-to-market road with a bright yellow line, miles from the closest city. Certified organic produce. Building permits and city inspectors, especially health inspectors. The ACLU. The ACLJ. Gun shows and hip hop clubs.

None of these things just happen. Countries that are rife with corruption and full of people who are either disinterested or scared to take action don’t have such luxuries. When a relatively mild earthquake hits Turkey, and all of the shabbily constructed homes and other buildings collapse, it’s horrible. It’s horrible and tragic and unnecessary. If their government had the means and the willingness to enforce the appropriate building codes, such devastation wouldn’t seal the fate of so many thousands of poor people. When such a thing happens, I am reminded of why I love this country so much.

There are many things about this country that are shitty, too. And many of them involve the same government that enforce the various permits that I just finished praising. What gives me hope, a hope that makes the shit almost bearable, is that we are willing to change. We have the means to change. Americans seem determined not to let the political entropy that paralyzes much of the world establish a firm hold on their country. Yes, it is hard to tell this at times, but I can’t help but think that this country is bound for better times.

At least that’s what I think when I listen to Tom Petty.