Growing Up in a House Full of Music

There’s something to be said for sticking with something. In a world that rewards speed, trends, and short attention spans, staying committed to anything over the long haul feels almost radical. But for me, the arts have never been a phase or a side interest—they’ve been the throughline of my life. From childhood to now, every stage of my journey has been shaped, inspired, and supported by a deep relationship with performance and creativity. And what I’ve learned along the way is that staying in the arts isn’t just about loving them—it’s about learning how to grow with them.

I was lucky to grow up in a house where music and performance were everywhere. My family didn’t treat the arts like something separate from “real life.” Music played constantly. We’d go to concerts, talk about theater, and celebrate creativity in everyday moments. I started acting in school plays when I was five, and around the same time, I picked up the drums. That was the beginning. Not just of hobbies, but of a mindset—one that saw expression, rhythm, and storytelling as natural parts of being alive.

Early Lessons That Still Matter

Those early experiences weren’t about career plans. They were about joy. There’s a kind of unfiltered excitement that comes from being on stage as a kid or pounding away on a drum set in the basement. It wasn’t about being great—it was about the feeling of doing something that connected me to others. That feeling has stayed with me. Even now, when I’m working through the logistics of a production or navigating complicated decisions, I try to return to that core feeling. It’s the anchor that reminds me why I’m doing this.

College and the Power of Radio

When I got to college, I found a new layer to my relationship with the arts. At Emerson in Boston, I discovered the college radio station and quickly became a regular voice on the air. It was a different kind of performance—less about being seen and more about being heard. Hosting on the radio taught me how to communicate clearly, how to consider the audience even when I couldn’t see them, and how to shape an experience in real time. These were lessons I didn’t realize would come in handy later, but they absolutely have.

Finding My Role as a Producer

What I’ve learned over the years is that a life in the arts isn’t linear. It doesn’t follow a single path or fit a single job title. I’ve been an actor, a musician, a radio host, and eventually, a producer. Each role required something different from me, and each helped me develop a new skill or perspective. Producing wasn’t on my radar when I was younger, but once I found it, it felt like a natural progression—like all those past experiences were leading me here.

Producing, as I see it, is about building the environment where art can happen. It’s about supporting the creative process, understanding the audience, and making sure all the moving parts come together. That takes patience. It takes long-term thinking. And it definitely takes a thick skin. But more than anything, it takes a love for the work itself—a love that can weather the slow times, the challenges, and the moments when things don’t go according to plan.

Staying Committed Over the Long Haul

There’s a misconception that being involved in the arts means constantly chasing inspiration or being swept up in drama. In reality, staying connected to the arts for decades means learning how to keep going when the spark dims. It means trusting that the spark will come back. It means continuing to show up, to stay open, to keep learning. I’ve had times where I questioned what I was doing, times when projects didn’t come together the way I’d hoped, and times when I needed to step back and reconnect with what matters. But I’ve never wanted to walk away. The arts have always found a way to call me back.

Perspective With Time

What I value most now is the perspective that comes with time. I can look back at the early days of my journey—the school plays, the drum practice, the late nights at the radio station—and see how they shaped me. I can also look ahead with a sense of purpose. Producing is not just about putting on shows. It’s about supporting stories that need to be told, voices that need to be heard, and moments that bring people together. That’s work I feel proud of. That’s work I want to keep doing.

Growing With the Work

Nurturing a lifelong relationship with the arts means making space for change. The way I engage with creativity now is different than it was twenty years ago, and it will keep evolving. That’s part of the beauty of it. The arts are alive, and if we stay curious and committed, they grow with us. My role may shift over time, but my connection to the work remains steady.

I still get excited when the house lights dim and the show is about to begin. I still feel that old thrill when a story lands, when a performance clicks, when an audience leans in. And I still feel incredibly lucky to be part of something that has been with me since the beginning.

This is the long game. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.