I’ve known my wife since the spring of 2019. Over the years, we’ve shared countless concerts, with our first being a memorable road trip to Detroit to see Bob Seger. It was only our third date—a bold move, asking her to embark on a six-hour drive to see a band she barely knew, with a guy she was still getting to know. But she agreed, and it was fantastic. Music has been a guiding light in our relationship, helping us navigate the ups and downs, especially during the pandemic. It’s always present in our home, and now, as she’s six months pregnant, we even have a baby playlist ready for the day she goes into labor.

There are two bands that make up most of my musical DNA—bands that have shaped me and helped me through some of my darkest times. One of them is the Foo Fighters. I love that band, plain and simple. They’re like my favorite pair of jeans, comfortable and reliable. Seeing someone on the street wearing a Foo Fighters or Pearl Jam shirt feels like meeting a kindred spirit—like saying, “These are my people.” I have this deep need to share what the Foo Fighters mean to me with the people I love most in this world. They’ve been there for me in ways I can’t fully explain, so it feels right to share that connection with my kids and my wife.

One of the peak moments of that journey was at Riot Fest last summer at Douglas Park. I was there with my wife and kids, singing along with Dave Grohl and the band to a catalog of songs that have shaped my life. My heart nearly burst when my daughter looked up at me and said, “Hey, Daddy, I know this song,” as “My Hero” played. In that moment, I felt like I was winning as a dad. That’s what music is for me—a bond, a connection, a way to express what words sometimes can’t.

For those who know me well, it’s no secret that I’m divorced and have remained close to my two kids from my first marriage. Now, with a baby girl on the way, I’m getting a second chance at some things, a chance to maybe do them better this time around. There was one chapter of my past that I hadn’t fully reopened, a part of my musical soul that I’d kept locked away—Pearl Jam. This band is like a superhighway to my emotional core, and for years, I put them aside because the memories were just too raw. They got me through some of my darkest times, and who wants to relive that?

My wife and I have been together since 2019, and yet somehow, we hadn’t seen Pearl Jam together. Sure, the pandemic played a role, but if I’m honest, I was avoiding it. I even gave away free tickets the last time they were in town just to avoid confronting those old feelings. But when they announced a new tour, I knew it was time. I got my 10 Club notice, swiped those pit seats, and thought, “Okay, let’s do this.”

Life had other plans. Since buying those tickets, we found out my wife is pregnant, my mom was diagnosed with cancer for the third time (and kicked its ass), and we planned a quinceañera—all before the concert. I was standing on the edge of an emotional rollercoaster, about to revisit memories I thought I’d buried for good. But I decided to rip the band-aid off and go all in.

Surrounded by 40,000 of our closest friends, we went to the Pearl Jam show, and something incredible happened. Past lives and old wounds shed from me like a snake shedding its skin. I felt alive, and I experienced it all through my wife’s eyes. Watching her react to the power of a Pearl Jam performance reminded me why I love this band so much. It wasn’t just about the music—it was about the shared experience, the connection with others, and the healing power of those lyrics that once haunted me.

Eddie and the band delivered, and as every note rang out at 1060 W Addison, I felt the weight of my past lift. I had my “dad moment” long ago when my kids recognized a Pearl Jam or Foo Fighters song on the radio, but this was different. This was full-circle life event kind of a moment. Every song of heartache, triumph, and the fight to find myself again was on full display. Hand in hand with my wife (and our unborn baby girl), I saw Pearl Jam for the first time through her eyes, and it gave those old songs new life. They became rungs on a ladder, helping me climb to new heights, enjoying every note along the way.

Music is the DNA of my soul…

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