This concert was a showcase of about six or so local bands. My buddy Cliff was in a band that played so that was cool and we discovered a band called Hang Dog but the real draw was the Ladybird Unition. They were hands down the best band on the local Tri-Cities scene. This event was not the first or the last time I saw them (they eventually broke up and reformed many years later). The significance of this concert is not what the event was or who played but what had happened in my personal life right before this event occurred. I moved out of my parent’s house. I believe it was a Monday and it had snowed so much that school was cancelled. My friends and I had partied a little at the house the weekend before because my dad permitted it at night when my mom was at work. At some point in the fun my dad’s $5 thrift store painting was knocked off the wall and the frame broke. Since it was a snow day my friends and I were plotting a trip to Canyon Lakes Golf Course to go sledding. As I was on the phone to one of the friends asking to come pick me up, my dad said “your friends aren’t allowed to come over until they replace the broken frame.” He seemed like he had already been drinking at this point in the morning and followed up with “and I want you to get your car out of the backyard.” You see, I had purchased a 1981 Pontiac Firebird without him the previous summer. It started to overheat and I didn’t yet have the money to fix it. I went to the neighbor’s house next door, explained that my dad was being an asshole, and asked if they would let me temporarily store my car in their driveway. They not only said yes but helped me push the car over to their house, but not before my dad tried to block us with his car! As I was at their house talking with them about the timeframe in which I expected to remove the car I heard the screen door at my house slam and some undecipherable mumbles from my dad, followed by another loud noise. I walked over to the trees that divided the houses and saw my entire CD collection all over the snow covered grass. I snapped. I went inside the house and picked up the phone to call 911. I intended to say “you better get over here because if you don’t something bad is going to happen” but my dad had picked up another phone in the house so the call wouldn’t dial out. I didn’t know he had picked up the phone until he said “who are you calling?” This infuriated me even more and I slammed the phone down on the end table next to the couch my mom was sleeping on so hard that the table collapsed to the ground. My mom awoke startled and said “what’s going on?” I replied “don’t worry about it, I’m moving out.” The thought hadn’t crossed my mind until I said the words. I didn’t know where to go but I knew it couldn’t be any worse that where I was. Within two hours I had my stuff packed and out. My sister was really upset and I felt bad for leaving her there alone but I had to go. I got a hold of my friend John and he agreed to let me stay in his garage for the time being. I had a job now at Super Lube changing oil but not making nearly enough money part time to afford an apartment, let alone other living expenses. A week later my cousin Earl returned to Kennewick to live with his dad (my uncle Darryl) after living with his mom in Montana. I ran into him at school and he said, “I heard what happened so I talked to my dad and he said you can stay in the extra bedroom of the house we’re staying in.” Earl was a savior and more of the brother I never had because he’s only 2 years younger and we hung out all the time before he moved to Montana when he was in 6th grade.