Can you miss something you never knew? Can you long for something you never experienced? I think you can, and the difference subtle difference is similar to that of sympathy versus empathy.

I never knew Asbury Park when it was a popular resort, a destination for its family attractions and entertainment rather than as the run-down ruins it has become. The city by the sea, now dubbed "Beruit by the sea," is a look into an ancient culture like Mayan ruins or the city of Pompeii. The decline began in the late 1960s and progressed quickly. By the time I was born, in 1976, Asbury Park was down to nothing.

And Bruce Springsteen was everything.

Bruce -- the man is on a first-name basis with the entire state -- rose to stardom as fast as Asbury Park fell from grace. His Greetings from Asbury Park, N.J. debut album received moderate attention, but the follow-up, The Wild, the Innocent and the E Street Shuffle made him a star. In 1975, Born To Run entrenched him as a legend.

I realize I fulfill the stereotype of the rapid Springsteen fan with my comments, but I have no problem with that. The other fans understand, and those who do not never will, no matter the method or frequency of attempts to explain it. With Springsteen's music, it's pretty simple: Either you get it, or you don't.

A developer came along in the 80s and attempted to rebuild the waterfront, but went bankrupt in 1988. The city has been entangled in bankruptcy litigation ever since.

Until recently. Asbury Park finally has the go-ahead to revitalize its waterfront, and the State of New Jersey is kicking in $1.2 billion dollars in aid. New stores, clubs, attractions and homes are expected to return Asbury to its glory days within five to eight years.

When that happens, the city will look back on July 30 as the day the rebirth truly began. To celebrate the release of The Rising, the first studio album by Bruce and the E Street Band in 18 years, both the Today show and NBC's local New York news broadcast live from the Asbury Park boardwalk. With the exception of weather, traffic, sports and national news, the entire five hours from 5-10 a.m. was devoted to Asbury Park, the Jersey Shore and the great Garden State. Jane Hanson and Maurice DuBois were there for Today in New York until 7 a.m.; Matt Lauer, Katie Couric and Al Roker worked the boardwalk and trod barefoot in the sand during Today.

And an estimated 10,000 fans -- The Associated Press' numbers, not mine -- lined the boardwalk, packed the beach and sweltered inside Convention Hall for the broadcast and the band's 33-minute, four song concert.

I was one of them. I first stopped in Asbury Park after leaving the ballpark early this morning. At 12:30 a.m., I parked near Convention Hall and walked along Ocean Ave. to the Stone Pony to purchase The Rising. I'd never been to the club that Bruce made famous (not the other way around, as many believe; he was already pretty well established in the Jersey Shore music scene when he became a regular at the Pony) so I went inside and wandered among the Springsteen fans and the bars. I went out back to the patio and outdoor stage and returned inside to the dance floor and tiny performance platform with the pony flag hanging on the wall.

The DJ played nothing but Springsteen, in chronological order, leading up to the new album. I was there as "Rosalita" played from The Wild ... and when "Thunder Road" kicked off Born To Run. As I strolled across the dance floor, I felt a tug on my arm and turned to see three BlueClaws employees at a table near a wall featuring a giant "Greetings From Asbury Park, N.J." postcard.

Just before 2 a.m., we left the Pony and strolled back up the boardwalk to the beach area near Convention Hall. NBC's floodlights illuminated the beach and we walked among the fans camping out for the night. At 2:30 we decided to head home for some rest.

I slept for 90 minutes and got up to return to the boardwalk. Forced to park much further away this time, my walk takes longer and I reach the boards and see Jane and Maurice doing their local broadcast. I wander between the beach and the front of Convention Hall, where fans with tickets to the concert are lined up awaiting the opening of the doors. I consider joining the line of ticketless hopefuls, those who expect this to be like any other Bruce concert and be the recipients of those tickets made available at the last minute. But if I did that, I'd miss the entire spectacle. I?d see only Bruce and the band and not the festivities happening outside on the beach.

So I return to the sand and make my way around the wide open section cordoned off for the show. I settle into a pocket packed with fans next to the boardwalk and Convention Hall. Two giant screens are set up on the Convention Hall concourse and I expect to watch the show from there.

It's all I expected and probably more. Matt and Katie sounded truly excited and appeared to genuinely enjoy their visit to the Shore. Of course, they seem to enjoy their jobs in general. I've seen them in Rockefeller Center, too, and they show as much enthusiasm there as they did in Asbury Park. The broadcast features segments on New Jersey and Asbury Park and interviews with Bruce, Danny DeVito and Gov. McGreevey (the latter two live on the beach). There's also a taped segment on New Jersey's famously inaccurate bad reputation.

Watching Jonathan Atler narrate the piece which points out New Jersey's most famous emigrants (Tom Cruise, Jack Nicholson, Martha Stewart, Meryl Streep), I think about the pride of Garden Staters. With the exception of Texas, where they're off the wall, there is no state in my mind whose natives have as much pride in their roots -- and show it in as grand a way -- as New Jersey's do. Hawaiians are proud of their heritage, but they're so far out in the Pacific you only hear about it when you visit them. Californians generally play up the laid-back lifestyle more than anything. New Yorkers, with as much pride as anybody, don't count because in their minds, they're residents of the city, not the state, and 67 percent of them grew up somewhere else and moved there anyway.

But New Jerseyans have genuine pride in where they're from. We embrace the jokes made at our expense ("What exit?") and consider a neurotic, murderous mobster to be a cute, cuddly, misunderstood teddy bear of a state mascot. And we love the fact that one of America's most popular, prolific and entertaining songwriters is our own.

The Rising came about in a matter of months in large part because of the events of Sept. 11. A fan in New Jersey saw Bruce leaving his beach club in the days following the attacks and called out, "We need you now!" Bruce heard, and he understood. The album's lyrics are deep and poignant and speak of love, hope and recovery. In his words, it's his own way of helping the healing along. He did it back in October with his appearance at two local benefit concerts, and he's done it again with a new record.

At 8:30, Matt and Katie moved inside Convention Hall for the concert and the band began with the title track to the new album. Outside, we heard it just as clearly through the nearby speakers as we would have inside. We saw it just as clearly on the giant screens on the concourse as we would have on inside screens or with our own eyes. And, for the most part, we saw it closer than we would have even from inside the intimate venue. The music came through loud and clear, as Springsteen's work so often does. His energy and enthusiasm at performing, as well as the band's, translated through the wires that brought the show outside onto the beach and the boardwalk.

Come on up for the rising
Come on up, lay your hands in mine
Come on up for the rising
Come on up for the rising tonight

Standing there listening to "The Rising," feeling the energy of the crowd on the beach and in the hall, I felt pride in New Jersey and pride in our country. Underneath the hot sun of the Asbury morning, it was my Fourth of July, Asbury Park, 26 days later. As many songwriters do -- the good and successful ones, anyway -- Bruce is able to put into words expressions and emotions we cannot verbalize ourselves. In some cases, he brings out thoughts and ideas we were previously unaware we had. After a commercial break, the band continued with "Lonesome Day" and jumped right into "Glory Days." Toward the end of the song, Bruce and Steven Van Zandt bantered back and forth about whether they should continue. Bruce shouted, "No commercials!" and the band played on. "Katie Couric is kinda cute," he continued. "Matt Lauer is kinda cute too."

When the song ends -- later than NBC's producers intended, I imagine -- they do break for a commercial, but return for the final number, "Into the Fire." It's the one song on the album Bruce admits to writing directly in response to Sept. 11. He wrote it for the Tribute to Heroes telethon, but performed "My City In Ruins" (written about Asbury Park) instead. On the album, "Into the Fire" is one of the more somber songs, in lyric and in music --

The sky was falling and streaked with blood
I heard you calling me,
then you disappeared into dust
Up the stairs, into the fire
Up the stairs, into the fire
I need your kiss, but love and duty
called you someplace higher
Somewhere up the stairs, into the fire

But it picks up with the chorus --

May your strength give us strength
May your faith give us faith
May your hope give us hope
May your love give us love

-- and leads into the upbeat and optimistic "Waitin' on a Sunny Day."

Everything'll be okay
Funny, thought I felt a sweet summer breeze
Must've been you sighing so deep
Don't worry we're gonna find a way
I'm waitin', waitin' on a sunny day
Gonna chase the clouds away
Waitin' on a sunny day

The song and the album hold double, maybe triple meanings. We're recovering after Sept. 11. We're moving on, forging ahead. And Asbury Park is making a comeback. Bruce loves his homestate, loves his adopted hometown (as well as his true hometown, Freehold, 15 miles inland).

I think about the future, the day eight years from now when the rebuilding of Asbury Park is complete, if we can believe the hype, have faith and hope. I imagine coming down here with Casey, just as my parents did growing up. I don't have any childhood memories of Asbury Park to look back upon.

Maybe my children will.

Familiar faces around me
Laughter fills the air
Your loving grace surrounds me
Everybody?s here
Furniture's out on the front porch
Music?s up loud
I dream of you in my arms
I lose myself in the crowd

-- from "Mary's Place"