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In 1984, I was freshly dumped by my first “serious” girlfriend, and bummed out in the way only 16-year-old bleeding hearts can be bummed out. I turned to Bruce Springsteen’s “The River” for solace – in particular, the epic, heart-rending “The Price You Pay,” a song that somehow made suffering (even of the juvenile variety) seem like a noble endeavor. I’m now 48. Last week…