Q&A with Anne Abel

 

 

 

Anne Abel is the author of the new memoir High Hopes, which recounts her experiences following a Bruce Springsteen tour in Australia. She also has written the memoir Mattie, Milo, and Me. She lives in New York City. 

 

Q: What inspired you to write this new memoir?

 

A: I wanted to share the experience I had going to Australia to follow Bruce Springsteen because I believe that sometime by sharing our stories with one another, we can offer a glimmer of hope, inspiration, and even fun. 

 

I did not go to Australia to change. When violence in the classroom forced me to quit my community college teaching job, I knew I needed something that would provide me with structure and focus to help keep me out of the abyss of depression.

 

Much to my surprise, I returned home a different person! For the first time in my life, I experienced a positive burst of energy and had a story about myself that I was proud of. It became a story that I wanted to share with others. 

 

Q: How would you describe your feelings toward Bruce Springsteen?

 

A: Bruce Springsteen onstage created magic for me. He opened my heart, mind and soul. I felt things I had never felt before. His energy, humanity and enthusiasm truly inspire me. He makes me feel like I have a chance. He makes me feel alive. And, of course he is so much fun. I had never done the three-letter F word, Fun, until my first Springsteen concert.

 

Q: The author Daniel Cavicchi said of the book, “With bracing honesty, Abel immerses readers in the challenges of ill health and complicated relationships, as well as the joys of fandom and community, all of which help her realize her gifts as an observer, storyteller, and critic.” What do you think of that description?

 

A: I am truly honored by Daniel’s words. Throughout my life, as I have struggled with severe depression and low self-esteem, I’ve often found comfort in simply observing others. I loved being a “fly on the wall” and people-watching.

 

On days when I felt especially low, I would sometimes drive to the Whole Foods parking lot just to watch people come and go. I noticed how they walked, the way their gaits changed as they left the store, the kinds of cars they drove, and what groceries they carried. I would even try to guess beforehand what I might see. In those moments, I came to think of myself as a careful observer.

 

My parents told me, right up until the day each of them passed, that I had nothing interesting to say and no real skills or talents. Those words stayed with me. Then, after my transformational trip to Australia, I discovered something called “storytelling.” I had never even known it was a genre. But I realized I had at least one story worth telling—about my trip.

 

Little by little, after moving to Chicago, I began going to open mics. First I told my Australia story, and then others followed. To my surprise, people seemed to love my stories. I still don’t think of myself as a good storyteller—it’s hard to undo a lifetime of being told I wasn’t good at anything. But hearing people respond with warmth and encouragement made me think, maybe there is something here.

 

That’s why Daniel’s words meant so much. Being called a storyteller felt affirming, even if I’m still learning to believe it. But being called a critic—that was a true honor. I’ve always admired critics. I love reading their work, no matter the subject. I love learning from people who have expertise, insight, and the ability to see deeper than most.

 

So, to be called a critic—me? That suggested I might have knowledge, or even critical thinking skills. That recognition touched me deeply. All I’ve ever done is share what comes from my heart, my soul, and my mind.

 

Q: How was the book’s title chosen, and what does it signify for you?

 

A: I believe that hope is an important part of how I deal with my depression. Hope is what motivates me to persevere. The only non-negative word either parent ever used to describe me was “persevering.” And, boy oh boy do I do that.

 

I am the master at putting one foot in front of the other. To get through the day. To do my daily workouts (which are the only thing that helps with my depression), to get myself out of bed in the morning. The hope that maybe if I do this, or do that, I will move forward, feel a bit better. And, because the tour I followed was High Hopes, it seemed especially apt.

 

Q: What are you working on now?

 

A: Currently I am working on a third memoir titled She Tried and She Tried and She Tried because I did and I do. I used to tell my kids that I wanted them to put that on my tombstone.

 

I am also going to do a TEDxtalk and a Moth Mainstage. The latter was on my bucket list, but I took it off because I didn't think it was attainable. But, recently they reached out to me and invited me to be part of a show in October in New Jersey.

 

And in May, even though I truly hate to travel, I am going with my husband and social media manager to Japan. Apparently, Japan is "viral" now. And, although I don't like to travel, doing videos for social media about NYC and Paris, made it (almost) fun for me.

 

I love sharing: stories, ideas, places and things. So, sharing the sites and experiences I am having with my social media followers will be something they like, and it will get me out of my beloved comfort zone, which is never a bad thing. And I will be 73, so if not now, when?

 

Q: Anything else we should know?

 

A: The transformation that began when I went to Australia continues today. 72 and two books. 72 and a social media influencer. 72 and recently relocated to NYC with my husband and dogs.

 

None of this would have happened, I would not be writing now, if I had not grabbed onto the Springsteen lifeline and followed his High Hopes Australia tour. None of this would have happened if I had not overcome my fears and done the only thing I could think of to try to stay out of the abyss of depression.

 

--Interview with Deborah Kalb. Here's a previous Q&A with Anne Abel.