It was 2004, and I was studying at Rhode Island School of Design while working two or three art jobs. One of those jobs was drawing caricatures at Faneuil Hall in downtown Boston. That may sound like a sweet gig, but I was working for a company, which had advantages and disadvantages. While some days were good, most were not, and, overall, I got more experience than profits out of it.
It was the day of the Democratic National Convention, which was meeting in Boston, and the city was strangely empty--I remember people saying they were afraid of a terrorist attack and avoiding downtown that day. As business was extremely slow, I took a bit of a longer break, and meandered toward the sound of two guitars, strumming up a passionate folksy rhythm that called through the eerie silence, drawing me in. My friend Jessica, who was probably the first friend I met in Boston, and still an important person in my life today, had told me to keep my eyes open for this acoustic rock duo, friends of hers, who were among the seasonal street performers at Faneuil Hall. This was finally my chance to meet them, and I fell in love with their music and bought their CD on the spot.
The duo is Ryanhood, a combination of their names, Ryan Green and Cameron Hood. Originally from Tuscan, Arizona, they got their big start in Boston, playing in the subway, then at Faneuil Hall, and then at many college shows, before they started touring, doing college gigs and folk festivals, opening for big singers, and creating a fan base all over the U.S. They eventually moved back to Tuscan, but whenever they came back to Boston for a show, I would be there. Their love songs were the first I was able to listen to after a traumatic breakup, their lyrics gave me perspective and hope during periods of depression, and their sweet harmonies kept me in good company during many cold, dark winters in Boston.
One of these shows was at Lasell College, which just happened to be where I got my big start teaching English, through a school that used to meet on their campus. At that point, I had been teaching English for at least three years, and had grown a lot as a teacher. The school I taught at had moved from the suburban Lasell campus to downtown, and it had been a while since I was on campus. Ryan and Cameron asked their Boston fans on Facebook which songs they would like to hear, and I requested a song that was unnamed at the time--it was simply known as "the Boston Song."
That song was either forgotten or just didn't fit in the set, but, afterward, when I greeted the guys, Cameron remembered the request and offered to play it for me and my friends, if we would stick around for a bit. Of course we did! The campus center was closing up, but they set up outside, just across the street from the little house where I taught some of my first classes, and gained confidence as a teacher. I grinned as the refrain, "you have to start somewhere" echoed in harmony around the campus where my career had started.
Now that I live in São José dos Campos, I don't get to attend Ryanhood shows anymore, although sometimes I'll tune into a live stream of a Boston show. (And Jessica sweetly snapped a picture with them at the first Boston show I missed!) You can be sure, though, that their music still makes its way into my classroom, and that I am no longer the only fan in São José.
Last week I gave a talk at a college about exploring our intersections, considering the if's and the what if's, and the new opportunities that are created by embracing life's journeys and the surprising crossing of paths that happen along the way. "The Boston Song," which is now properly titled "Start Somewhere," the title song of a more recent album, still takes me back to where I started. The surprising intersection of art and language is what introduced me to my career. I started out in Boston, alongside Ryan and Cameron, trying to figure out who I was and what I had to offer. The journey has had interesting twists and turns, some of them icy and harsh, but I'm so glad their music has been there, to put words and melodies to some of the deep places in my heart.
I'll never forget Monday, April 15th, 2013, when, planning to use their song "Second City" to wrap up a unit about places, there actually was a terrorist attack in Boston, and this song gave my students some solid comfort as we waited to see what would happen. Not long before that, their album, After Night Came Sun helped me get through one of the worst winters of my life. And, as kind of a send-off from Boston, Naldo and I danced to their song "Born to Run to You" at our wedding, bringing tears of joy to our guests. From Faneuil Hall to Lasell College, from Club Passim to ICBEU, from a Guitar Hero party in Malden to QHOP (Quincy House of Parties) to my twisting bus route in Saint Joseph of the Fields, Ryanhood has often played in the soundtrack of my story.
I'll leave you with the lyric video to "Start Somewhere," which shows some day-by-day scenes of Boston subways and Faneuil Hall, and I'll ask for your stories. Where did you start out? Whose paths did you cross along the way, and what impact did these intersections have on your journey? What songs and works of art guided you along the way? And, if you're just starting, well, you have to start somewhere.
It was the day of the Democratic National Convention, which was meeting in Boston, and the city was strangely empty--I remember people saying they were afraid of a terrorist attack and avoiding downtown that day. As business was extremely slow, I took a bit of a longer break, and meandered toward the sound of two guitars, strumming up a passionate folksy rhythm that called through the eerie silence, drawing me in. My friend Jessica, who was probably the first friend I met in Boston, and still an important person in my life today, had told me to keep my eyes open for this acoustic rock duo, friends of hers, who were among the seasonal street performers at Faneuil Hall. This was finally my chance to meet them, and I fell in love with their music and bought their CD on the spot.
The duo is Ryanhood, a combination of their names, Ryan Green and Cameron Hood. Originally from Tuscan, Arizona, they got their big start in Boston, playing in the subway, then at Faneuil Hall, and then at many college shows, before they started touring, doing college gigs and folk festivals, opening for big singers, and creating a fan base all over the U.S. They eventually moved back to Tuscan, but whenever they came back to Boston for a show, I would be there. Their love songs were the first I was able to listen to after a traumatic breakup, their lyrics gave me perspective and hope during periods of depression, and their sweet harmonies kept me in good company during many cold, dark winters in Boston.
When I started teaching English, I brought their songs to the classroom, using them to teach noun clauses, reinforce prepositions, distinguish between content and function words--any number of linguistic objectives. Students quickly became fans, and, any time Ryan and Cameron were in town, a group of international students and their teacher would always be at their show.
One of these shows was at Lasell College, which just happened to be where I got my big start teaching English, through a school that used to meet on their campus. At that point, I had been teaching English for at least three years, and had grown a lot as a teacher. The school I taught at had moved from the suburban Lasell campus to downtown, and it had been a while since I was on campus. Ryan and Cameron asked their Boston fans on Facebook which songs they would like to hear, and I requested a song that was unnamed at the time--it was simply known as "the Boston Song."
That song was either forgotten or just didn't fit in the set, but, afterward, when I greeted the guys, Cameron remembered the request and offered to play it for me and my friends, if we would stick around for a bit. Of course we did! The campus center was closing up, but they set up outside, just across the street from the little house where I taught some of my first classes, and gained confidence as a teacher. I grinned as the refrain, "you have to start somewhere" echoed in harmony around the campus where my career had started.
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| One of my first classes in a little house at Lasell College |
Last week I gave a talk at a college about exploring our intersections, considering the if's and the what if's, and the new opportunities that are created by embracing life's journeys and the surprising crossing of paths that happen along the way. "The Boston Song," which is now properly titled "Start Somewhere," the title song of a more recent album, still takes me back to where I started. The surprising intersection of art and language is what introduced me to my career. I started out in Boston, alongside Ryan and Cameron, trying to figure out who I was and what I had to offer. The journey has had interesting twists and turns, some of them icy and harsh, but I'm so glad their music has been there, to put words and melodies to some of the deep places in my heart.
I'll never forget Monday, April 15th, 2013, when, planning to use their song "Second City" to wrap up a unit about places, there actually was a terrorist attack in Boston, and this song gave my students some solid comfort as we waited to see what would happen. Not long before that, their album, After Night Came Sun helped me get through one of the worst winters of my life. And, as kind of a send-off from Boston, Naldo and I danced to their song "Born to Run to You" at our wedding, bringing tears of joy to our guests. From Faneuil Hall to Lasell College, from Club Passim to ICBEU, from a Guitar Hero party in Malden to QHOP (Quincy House of Parties) to my twisting bus route in Saint Joseph of the Fields, Ryanhood has often played in the soundtrack of my story.
I'll leave you with the lyric video to "Start Somewhere," which shows some day-by-day scenes of Boston subways and Faneuil Hall, and I'll ask for your stories. Where did you start out? Whose paths did you cross along the way, and what impact did these intersections have on your journey? What songs and works of art guided you along the way? And, if you're just starting, well, you have to start somewhere.
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