I grew up in Northern Jersey in a town just 30 minutes from the city (not including the constant traffic, of course). Life there was inexplicably dull and unexciting; I found myself wondering if anything great would ever happen here. Alright, so it was kind of exciting. Rev. Run's son went to my middle school and invited most of my eighth-grade class to his Sweet Sixteen, but all his dad did was block the bus pickup lane with his Rolls Royce. But I still held onto the hope that someone would "make it big" and put my little Bergen County town on the map -- and then, finally, it started to happen.
The kids of the family I grew up next to were all moved out by the time I was 15, but I was lucky enough to get to know them while growing up. All three of them babysat me and my sister, and I referred to their father as my second dad just for fun. One of the brothers, Wesley Schultz, is now the lead singer and songwriter for "The Lumineers," a band that is now a household name all over the world. When I was younger, my sister and I would play on our swing set and try to get as high as possible so that we could catch a glimpse of him playing the guitar on his front porch. I knew that he had been in a band for quite awhile, but was having a hard time getting noticed by producers in the city.
In the meantime, he spent his days working at our local Starbucks and even gave me and my sister free drinks sometimes. Wes was our hip and cool neighbor and was destined to go places. It was no surprise when, after moving out to Denver with his friend and band mate, Jeremiah, their band got attention from important producers. To me, it all felt like it happened so fast. I got an email from my mom telling me to look out for Wes' new song, "Ho Hey," on the radio. And sure enough, I heard it for the first time in the car on my birthday. He had actually done it! He had pushed his way out of our small and suffocating town and was a famous musician.
But it left me wondering if there were any miracles left here. How many people get to find success and become well-known for doing what they loved? It felt like there was a limit on who was allowed to be special. There were countless high school rock bands in my town, but nothing ever happened for them. At a high school talent show my senior year, two guys got up and made fun of "The Lumineers" on stage, probably because they were jealous. All my mom and I could do was smile because, even though they covered "Ho Hey" as a joke, it sounded amazing. Because Wes and his band are amazing.
Just because something hasn't happened for you yet, doesn't mean it never will. I remind myself of this all the time, because even in college it can feel like everyone is doing so much better than I am. But Wes gives me hope. One day in high school, I was visiting his mom at his house and saw the rows and rows of demo tapes he and his band-mates had packaged and sent out to producers in NYC, only to have them rejected. How could I let my own fears hold me back when people are able to power through hundreds of failed attempts? I had found the reassurance I needed that day.
I want to hold onto that feeling and remind myself that there is enough magic to go around, no matter how small a place and the people in it can make you feel.
