When I was 13, I was desperately in love with The Bay City Rollers — and FULLY believed that I would grow up to marry Woody, go on a Rock n’ Roll Honeymoon, and then live happily ever after in Scotland for the rest of my days. As silly as it seems now, going to see them in concert was the high point of my life up ’til then, and even many years beyond — and the only way I was able to do it was because I had friends with parents who were kind enough to drive us all the way from Fresno to San Jose to do so. With a million kids, a business to run, and endless matrimonial warfare to wage against each other, my own parents weren’t really available to haul their plaid-bedecked adolescent daughter and her giggling girlfriends 4 hours away to see their Tiger Beat teen dreamboats sing about Summer Love and Saturday Night.

Fast forward several decades. Today, Gregory and I are driving our son and his buddies to see Metallica, Megadeth, Slayer, and Anthrax in Indio, California — a three hour drive from LA. We will then be exploring the area and driving them home late this evening. Yes, this sounds like a hassle. Yes, it is a little indulgent. However, I always appreciated with all my heart what my friend’s parents did for me that early summer day when I was 13 — and I never forgot it. I have no doubt that our amazing son, Hunter — who verily lives and breathes music — never will either.

So, this day is dedicated, across time and space, to April Bartlett’s parents…who gave up a day of their lives to show a young girl from Fresno how it’s fucking done.