Adrienne Gallagher
My husband and I are Neil Young fans. We have a number of his albums. But being fans didn’t prepare us for what happened shortly after we made a corporate move from Winnetka, Illinois, to Portola Valley, California, in 1989.
Our daughter came home from kindergarten and said that a classmate had stood up for show-and-tell and said, “My dad’s a rock ’n’ roll star.” Kate said the girl was wearing a red bandana tied around her head like a headband, and that she showed a golden statue, which she originally had hidden behind her back. We pulled out Kate’s class list and saw Neil Young’s name next to the name of her classmate, Amber Young. The golden statue was likely a Grammy.
Maybe a month or two later, the school hosted a family cookout. Families brought their own food, and the school set out a large rectangular charcoal grill in its courtyard. Many dads gathered around it to cook the meat for their families’ dinners, and my husband, Barney, was among them, cooking hamburgers, when a guy asked to borrow his spatula. It was Neil Young. After that, Barney was unsure if he ever wanted to wash it.
Amber and Kate became friends, so it came as no surprise when Kate was invited to Amber’s birthday party. Barney must have mentioned this to our next-door neighbor—another big Neil Young fan—because he begged to ride along to drop Kate off. Instead, we carpooled with one of her classmates.
When Barney got home from taking the girls, he described driving up in the hills of Portola Valley to a long, curving driveway leading to the Youngs’ home. Llamas roamed freely. Barney parked and walked the girls to the door. Neil’s wife, Pegi, answered and invited him in. Then she led Barney to their kitchen and offered him some birthday cake. About that time, Neil walked in to say hello. You know, you’re trying not to act starstruck, but you’re eating birthday cake with someone you idolize.
Then in 1991, after rock promoter Bill Graham was tragically killed in a helicopter crash, his staff quickly organized a free concert for the public in Golden Gate Park. Over 300,000 fans showed up to celebrate his life, including us with our children, ages 10, seven, and two. Sitting on a blanket, surrounded by tie-dyed flower children and the unmistakable smell of marijuana, the all-afternoon concert, titled “Laughter, Love, and Music,” delivered just that. Comedian Robin Williams emceed an all-star lineup including the Grateful Dead, Santana, John Fogerty, and, of course, Neil Young. He performed solo and reunited Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young. We listened to hit after hit, but left early to avoid overtiring our kids.
That was the last time Neil Young because a few months later, we made another corporate move—this time to Switzerland.
Fast forward to today, and we’re happily settled just a mile from our first home in Winnetka. Our Neil Young albums sit on a shelf, even though we play his music digitally. It’s not the same, but then, neither is the country we proudly represented when we lived abroad.
Recently, Neil Young was in the news, first defending colleagues Bruce Springsteen and Taylor Swift after they were verbally attacked by President Trump, and then inviting his former fan, Donald Trump, to one of his concerts. He said he would be playing the music we love for all of us to enjoy.
Memories rushed back to when we lived in Portola Valley, and our country felt entirely different than it does today.