"On the drive up here, I was imagining what this place could be. I thought it would be a place that people would travel some distances to see. I'm just dreaming here. It's some years off, but it's nice to be in on the ground floor." -Artist and singer David Byrne, at the opening of his exhibit at the Massachusetts Museum of Contemporary Art (Mass MoCA), July 27, 1996

On August 14, 1996, I got up about 5:00 in the morning, drove out of my driveway in Torrington, Connecticut, and headed up Route 8 to North Adams, Massachusetts. The road winds through one of the most rural areas in southern New England. The barns and deciduous trees glowed as they caught the first rays of sunlight. Two hours later, I crossed over the Hadley Overpass, stared at the church steeples, and descended into a new world that has changed my life immeasurably. Since then, I have visited the city more than 1,000 times.

It was Byrne's exhibit at Mass MoCA that had lured my wife and me to the city for our first visit, six days before the artist spoke his prophetic words on July 27 at the former Sprague Electric Company, which at the time, was a mass of empty factory buildings three years away from being a museum. It was a strange day. The press release in our local newspaper had led us to believe that the opening was on Sunday, July 21. We showed up at 1:00 and saw a sign on the door announcing the opening for the following Saturday. We stared at each other, and I said, "It's pretty here. I love those mountains. Let's walk around for a while."

We explored the city for more than three hours, had dinner at Boston Seafood, and started home, only to be lured back again by an incoming freight train, which we wound up watching from the top of a footbridge overlooking the city and a spooky little tunnel. It was magic.

So there I was, 18 days later, sitting by a window facing Main Street, eating breakfast at the Appalachian Bean Café. I spent most of the day walking, asking questions, taking notes and snapping pictures. I saw the Byrne exhibit again, and then stood at the main gate, stared at the clock tower and wondered what it had been like to work there. I sat in the bleachers at Joe Wolfe Field for quite a while, and even ran around the bases once. After lunch, also at the Bean (there wasn’t much else on the street), I hopped on the railroad tracks near Heritage State Park, journeyed down about a half-mile, walked back, went through the tunnel, and ended up at Hillside Cemetery. It felt like some sort of spiritual awakening. 

When I learned this summer that the rock band, Wilco, was scheduled to perform on August 14 at the Solid Sound Festival at Mass MoCA, I knew the stars were aligned. It would be exactly 14 years, to the day, that I had made that “spiritual” visit. So I decided to come up early, stay all day and reflect on how different those two days were.