It is sad to me that Sib Hashian, formerly of Boston, passed away one month ago today. Boston has been so important to me in my life, especially the first two albums that he played on. Boston, “Boston” was the first Rock/Metal album that I purchased with my own money. I had an old Montgomery Wards stereo system that was a hand-me-down from my parents. Prior to Boston, it only played Leif Garrett, Shawn Cassidy, and the score from Star Wars. I played “Boston” it until it skipped. As each new audio version came out, I repurchased those first two releases. Cassette, cd…digital. Through Boston I found the love of my life…Music.

Boston would continue to be important to me in an even bigger way, later in my life.

Here is where Boston, in essence, saved my life.

Last summer, after I returned home from South Africa, I was having a very difficult time; definitely the worst in my life. I’m choosing to skip the gory details of my three year South African adventure. Hopefully that doesn’t negatively impact the story. I’ll just say it didn’t go as planned and left me with some scars.

Fast forward about two weeks into my returning home. It was the day before Boston played the Moda Center. Jerimia and Susanna lovingly called me and asked me to attend the show with Jer and write a review for my old love MIRP.

I was hesitant, but agreed; I almost cancelled. I was so scared. I had just returned from living in one of the most dangerous countries in the world. A place where you need to be afraid of everyone, because many hate you due to your color and country of origin. A place where you pad lock yourself in at night, and there are bars on every window. A place where I was considered unintelligent, promiscuous for being friendly, and spoiled because I was an American woman. For those three years I wasn’t allowed to do anything by myself. I was accused daily of having very bad taste in music and being “easy” because I had associated myself with the metal scene who is made up of mostly men. I was a slutty poser who knew nothing, at least that was what I was told often. Women shouldn’t love metal/rock. There are always ulterior motives in this man’s only passion.

Jer met me and we walked together to the venue. Not the main part, but the office where you get your media credentials. I was afraid, but tried not to show it. Soon Jer and I were separated (he was escorted downstairs to take pictures, and I was to go into the Moda center by myself with everyone else who had a ticket and claim my seat).
And then it happened. I remember the exact moment that I knew I was going to be OK; The exact moment that I realized I wasn’t broken after all, I just had a little tear… A little ding in my armor. It was when I walked into the Moda center by myself and was swallowed by the sea of people just like me who love music. Men and women. It was smelling the scent of rock fans when they gather. It was hearing their collective chatter. It was through the ceremony of having my physical ticket scanned, being searched, finding my assigned seat…and the anticipation of seeing Boston for the first time…all by myself. It was exhilarating and empowering.

Moments before Boston took the stage, a giant American Flag waived on the enormous screen behind the stage. I cried. I cried off and on through their entire set as I sang the words to every song.