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Health & Fitness

The Grammies and The Grammy's

Just some thoughts from a family man stuck in the mud somewhere in the swamps of Jersey.

4:57 a.m.  Sunday, Feb. 12.  Jersey Shore Medical Center.

The time and place the lungs of one Spencer Arthur Steinlight first filled with air. A moment in time I had anxiously awaited but had not fully grasped until the magnitude of the moment had arrived. A moment in time that has established a permanent residence in my mind. My son, my miracle. In all his flesh and all his beauty. 

His life tour had begun, despite coming four days earlier than the intended delivery date. His grammies, mom-moms, pop-pops and poppies were all on hand, bushy-tailed and bleary-eyed, to witness the announcement.  

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Being a public relations professional, my job is to communicate news to the masses. I have disseminated information for many years to thousands of people and news organizations of all shapes and sizes. Some press releases could be three pages in length; some statements could last for 10 minutes. However, this announcement was just three words, and by far the most difficult to speak as a result of the heightened emotion. 

“It’s...A...Boy!”

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Immediately my emotions were transferred to each member of our family on hand for the moment - all of whom reacting like they had just hit a grand slam in the ninth inning of a Game 7 in the World Series. And then times that feeling by ten.

As our family – Spencer, Jen and I – sat in our hospital room later in the day, still in shock and awe of the day’s events, a sudden feeling of peace and comfort set in. I stared at our son and learned of a love that I never once knew existed. Unmatched and unconditional.

In my own warped (and some may call 'sick') mind, I believed that the boy decided to enter the world knowing that Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band were set to be opening the Grammy’s music awards show that night.  

After all, I had eagerly awaited this performance as it was rebirth of the E Street Band. This rock n’ roll legacy had a new lineup, one that was not made by choice but whose hand was forced as the result of a monumental loss. But as The Boss stated during his eulogy for the man he called The Big Man, “Clarence doesn’t leave the E Street Band when he dies. He leaves when we die.”  That’s when I knew there was a declaration of renewed life for the E Street Nation.

As my wife and I sat side-by-side, with our newest addition in our arms, we watched the E Street Band perform the new single, “We Take Care of Our Own.”  Even though Bruce wrote the song with a significant political tone in mind, I was not hearing its lyrical prowess. Instead, I was simply hearing the words “We Take Care of Our Own” and singing it back to my son, Spencer. Over and over again.  And again.

The show concluded with a grand finale bookended by Sir Paul McCartney.  Macca and his band sang the Abbey Road album classic, “Carry That Weight.” It is a song that I have listened to hundreds of times, and the chorus always felt like it was the passing of the proverbial "generational torch" – from father to son. With all of his emotion singing to a global television audience, McCartney belted the words, “Boy, you’re gonna carry that weight, Carry that weight a long time.”  I looked at my son, Spencer, and repeated those lyrics to him. Over and over again. And again.

The day had come to an end. Filled with our "living proof" rounding out our family. Feelings of love, fear and calm had all parked themselves in my head throughout the 23-hour marathon of a day. But nothing outweighed the deep feeling of eternal hope that had come upon me. Hope that was infinite and real. The words ‘eternal hope’ resonated in my head over and over again. And again.

Sammy Steinlight is President of Steinlight Media, LLC, a public relations company based in Manalapan, NJ.

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