In July 2023, as I observed a dear friend contemplating retirement from music with unfulfilled dreams, a poignant realization dawned upon me. It wasn’t just him; a pervasive sentiment had taken root among many of my fellow Gen Xers. It seemed as though numerous men in my network were on the brink of surrender—ready to abandon their aspirations, resigned to a life of stifled dreams and untapped potential.
This letter is dedicated to all the unsung heroes out there, yearning for a chance to reignite their passions. It’s a call to those who would gladly reverse their decision to quit if only they had a steadfast steward by their side—a loyal companion into whom they could pour their dreams for safekeeping, guiding them towards their destined greatness.
I May Not Know You, But I Remember You
Hey old friend,
It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Writing to you feels a bit like reaching into the past. We haven’t had a heart-to-heart in years, so I recognize that the man I knew is long gone – I’m talking to a ghost. Still, I’m hoping you’ll indulge me for a moment.
I’ve been thinking a lot about our conversations from years ago, especially when you mentioned your music career feeling frozen in time, fixed in one place. That image stuck with me, and I couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness at the thought of you not sharing your music anymore.
I understand, though, how life can wear you down. Thirteen years ago, I found myself in a similar place, stepping away from music among other things. The waiting, the longing, the feeling of being stuck in someone else’s story – it all became too much. But looking back now, what I miss most isn’t the stage or the applause, but the magic of creating something meaningful with friends. Building a legacy, leaving behind a testament to our existence, proof that we lived while we were here.
Since you told me that you were considering stepping away, I can’t rest. I think about it all the time. It’s a curious burden for me to carry, especially since you never asked me to carry it – at least not directly. And I’m not sure why I can’t shake it, why I feel compelled to fix it. Trust me when I say I’ve been delivered from the pride of trying to fix things. But… I kinda feel like your legacy is talking in my ear, begging to be birthed. Petitioning me to say something to you about it. To save the day. And he won’t shut up about you.
I can’t help but feel that there’s still so much within you waiting to be unleashed, and maybe you’re not really ready to quit – maybe you just need help. A cheerleader. A point person. A professional right hand who can help you handle #allthethings so that you can focus on just being legendary.
What would it take to reignite that fire, that drive to create and share your gifts with the world again? To leave behind a legacy that is deserving of your father’s surname? Dude, what if your next drop is the one that’ll keep the talking heads ruminating for generations to come?
Do you still hear music in your dreams? I remember you mentioning it once, and it resonated with me because I used to experience the same. For years, the music stopped for me too, until I returned to Detroit. It’s funny how inspiration seems to have its own geographic boundaries.
Maybe you’re not interested in being back on stage, and that’s okay. But have you ever considered taking on a role like Questlove, preserving the culture of music and mentoring the next generation? With your connections and respect in the industry, you could truly make a difference.
I’ll tell you one of my unfulfilled dreams. Because I’m sure by now you’re curious. 🙂 I’ve always wanted to build an entertainment complex and arts center – like a training ground for artists. A place where they can go to learn the business, meet other musicians, and sharpen their skills. Christian musicians can learn biblical principles so they have something to stand on when they venture out. And everybody gets a proper music business education and support. Don’t you wish you’d had that in your 20s? I certainly do.
Life may have thrown its distractions our way, but I have no doubt that you’ve only gotten better at your craft over the years. As for me, I may have stepped away from music (read The Cup and the Hero Pt 2), but the passion still burns within. And seeing your potential, your talent, your depth – it’s clear to me that you still have so much to offer to the world of music. And I wanna help you do that.
I will admit that I’m a pretty big fan of yours. And maybe there’s something to this idea that I’ve always seen more in you than what meets the eye. But I’m not the only one. I hear how people talk about you when you’re not in the room – how other men talk about you when you leave the room. You’re respected, admired, and loved by so many. Your talent, your wisdom, your compassion – they’re all qualities that make you a true gem in any setting.
So, if music still holds a special place in your heart, I urge you to consider embracing it once again. Lean into your passion, your talent, and let the world see the incredible musician that you are.
I wish you all the love and full-frontal hugs your heart desires,
Rib