By: Michael Beas

When Anne Abel set out alone for Australia to follow Bruce Springsteen’s High Hopes tour, she wasn’t looking for fun. She was fighting for her life. Wrestling with recurring depression and fearful of relapse after leaving her teaching job, Abel gave herself 26 days, five cities, and eight concerts to keep the darkness at bay. What she found along the way was not just music, but connection, validation, and an unexpected sense of courage.

Her memoir, High Hopes: A Memoir, chronicles that journey. In conversation, she is quick to stress that there were no disappointments on tour. “Only happy surprises,” she says, recalling how Springsteen seemed to reinvent himself every night.

Rising From the Ashes

One unforgettable moment came early, during her third concert in Australia. Springsteen began in a subdued mood, sitting on the stage and confessing, “If you had told me an hour ago that I would be here, I never would have believed it.” The performance faltered, and even an 80-year-old man beside Abel muttered, “This is not very impressive.” But what seemed like a lull became something greater. Springsteen slowly built momentum, weaving his reflections on aging, death, and resilience into the music, until both he and the crowd surged back to life. “He hypnotized us with his rambling and then raised us higher than we could ever have achieved on our own,” Abel recalls. By the end, the once-skeptical man declared, “This was an experience of a lifetime.”

Such reversals became emblematic of her experience. Each concert, even those performed back-to-back in the same city, felt wholly distinct. “Some of the songs changed, but even the songs that remained felt totally different,” Abel says. “Every concert had a different energy, a different approach. He was always 100% connected to the audience, giving every morsel of energy he had inside him.”

The Power of Surprise

By the time Abel approached her final show, she doubted even Springsteen could sustain his energy. “I thought this last concert was bound to be a rehash. After all, Bruce Springsteen is mortal.” Instead, she was astonished. The show opened with a whole string section of young women playing the Bee Gees’ “Stayin’ Alive,” a tribute to Brisbane’s hometown icons. “It was so beautiful, so powerful, I was completely taken off guard,” she says. That night lasted four hours — so long that Abel sat down briefly, spent from dancing, though she insists she didn’t want it to end. “I stood corrected. Bruce Springsteen could bring his A-plus game every night.”

Strangers Who Became Stories

While the concerts were transformative, Abel’s encounters with fellow fans added a human dimension to the trip. At her first show in Adelaide, a young man who had received a last-minute ticket sat beside her. A musician himself, he confessed he sometimes played Springsteen songs with his band. Abel, who feared looking foolish dancing alone, felt suddenly validated when he told her he loved “Waitin’ on a Sunny Day,” a song she worried was too lightweight. “That young stranger made me feel okay about reveling in it,” she says. “I still get chills remembering it.”

Moments of solidarity came from unexpected places. After ushers repeatedly forced her out of the aisle for dancing, a young woman approached Abel, thanking her for giving her the courage to step out and dance too. Thousands of miles from home, Abel felt she had found a kindred spirit.

There were also reminders of Springsteen’s multigenerational reach. In Melbourne, she sat between a man celebrating his mother’s birthday by taking her to her first concert and a couple from Sydney seasoned in rock shows. At first, none seemed interested in talking. Abel felt conspicuous, especially after losing her wedding ring in the second concert. Then, in a moment worthy of a novel, she spotted Barbara Carr, Springsteen’s longtime manager, motioning to her from near the stage. Abel had met Carr briefly days earlier in Adelaide. “Anne, don’t you remember me?” Carr said, offering warm wishes for the show.

When Abel returned to her seat, jaws dropped around her. Suddenly, the once-dismissive seatmates saw her in a different light. By the concert’s end, both turned and said, “You are absolutely right. He is amazing.” Abel felt vindicated, included.

More Than Music

For Abel, the concerts were about far more than music. They were about proving to herself that she could endure, that she could still find joy and connection in a life marked by struggle. “Every concert was not only fun but uplifting and soulful,” she says.

Numerous private victories marked her time in Australia. Each song became a lifeline, each stranger an unexpected ally. More than once, she was struck by how others saw her — as courageous, as adventurous, as someone to admire. It was a stark contrast to the skepticism she had faced at home, where people rolled their eyes at her plan. “In Australia, strangers said they wished their mothers were like me,” Abel says. “I was shocked every time.”

By the end of the tour, she carried home not just memories of electrifying performances but a renewed sense of resilience. “Bruce Springsteen was my lifeline, and I grabbed it,” she says. What began as an act of desperation became a testament to survival—and to the unexpected power of music to heal, uplift, and connect.