Dear Fighters of the Foo
I’ve been a fan of the Foo Fighters since I first got into music in the ’90s. Rock music has always spoken to me and the Foo Fighters are at the heart and soul of that. There has yet to be a cd player, record player, iPod, tablet or phone that hasn’t had a Foo Fighters cd or vinyl played on it or playlist permanently installed on them.
I grew up in the Northern Kentucky area, about 30 minutes below Cincinnati. For concerts, I’ve traveled to Indianapolis and Columbus twice (the last being for Sonic Temple specifically to see you all) and now will be seeing you a second time in Cincinnati when you come back around in May.
A special moment I’d like to share is from the last time you all came through Cincinnati, OH on October 20th, 2017. 2017 was a rough year for my family. In October of 2016, the day after my family and I moved into our new house with our then 1.5 and almost 5-year-old daughters, my father – named Dave and 63 at the time, was diagnosed with stage 4 Pancreatic cancer. He survived for a year before cancer took his life on October 16, 2017.
I got the call from my mom that he was fading (I live about 40 minutes north of my parents) and jumped into my car, plugging my phone up as I always do for music. My Foo Fighters playlist was queued and the first song that came on was White Limo. I drove that little Toyota Corolla the fastest I ever had that day (I had purchased it from my dad just earlier in the year), hitting over 100mph while I zipped down I-75 desperately trying to make it before he was gone.
I was about 5-10 minutes out when my mom called me, telling me he was gone. I don’t remember it playing before she called (going hands-free through the car so audio stopped while on the phone) but once we hung up, My Hero was playing. I’m not sure what else played after that.
Three days after his passing was the concert. We debated back and forth if we should still go, having a moment without losing it was tough in those next couple days and we were laying him to rest on the 21st, the day after. My brother, wife, and I decided to go.
During My Hero, I stood there with tears in my eyes, staring at the ceiling of US Bank Arena but more upwards towards the heavens. A friend and old roommate, that I hadn’t seen in an extremely long time, found us near the stage on the floor and hugged me and told me he was sorry. The people around us overheard us and just stood there, letting us have the moment without saying a word about them cutting in or us distracting from you all on stage.
My dad will always be connected to My Hero to me now and I’ll be staring at the ceiling in May when you all play it, this time with my 7-year-old daughter Makayla who will have her first concert experience ever with you all then. My dad’s birthday was May 19th, so it seems fitting that’s the time you all would be back around.
Those memories will always stick with me and I’ll always think of my dad when My Hero comes on.
Take care gentlemen and congratulations on 25 years.