ORIGINS AND INFLUENCES (1968–1985)

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My Road to the Rock Hall: When the Music Made the World Bigger

Long before I knew Cleveland existed, I was already on the road to the Rock Hall. It started with vinyl sleeves, lyrics I barely understood but copied line by line, and the blasts of Queen and Led Zeppelin from my neighbor Fernando’s house. There was no internet, no playlists—just the radio, mixtapes, and whatever I could afford at the record store. But the music landed hard; it was a matter of identity. It made the world feel bigger than Calle Tempestad, like there was more out there, waiting.

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THE SEARCH YEARS (1986-1998)

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My Road to the Rock Hall: Discovering the Hall from a World Away

Somewhere in the fog of my university years, I read about a new museum being built in the City of Cleveland: the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. Why not New York or LA? I didn’t know; it seemed like a strange choice. I was studying architecture at the time, and the fact that I.M. Pei had been tapped to design it caught my attention.

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At first, I dismissed it—who gets to decide who belongs in a “hall of fame”? It all felt a bit self-important. But I kept reading, kept watching. Chuck Berry. Aretha. Dylan. The Beatles. The more artists they honored, the more the idea grew on me. Not because of the institution itself, but because of what it symbolized—music as a force, as memory, as meaning. A place that didn’t just archive records but preserved emotion.

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Cleveland still felt like another planet to a broke student in Mexico City. But that museum, in that faraway town, planted a strange idea: that music mattered deeply—a quiet signal that would echo back later, louder than I ever expected.

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 REINVENTION AND RISK (1999-2006)

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My Road to the Rock Hall: So Close, Yet Still Out of Reach

Somewhere between Excel spreadsheets, sleepless nights, and trying to stay afloat in my MBA program, we took a quick trip from Purdue in Indiana to Washington, D.C. for spring break—a rare break from the grind. And for the first time, Cleveland didn’t feel so far. I spotted it on the map and lit up: I could finally see the Rock Hall. But I wasn’t traveling alone. It wasn’t just up to me. I floated the idea of a detour, but the group wasn’t interested. The itinerary was tight, the mood wasn’t right, and I couldn’t make the case. We skipped it.

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I still remember the frustration of being that close and not being able to go. It was like seeing a train pull out of the station just as you reach the platform. I sat with it quietly, telling myself, 'Someday.'

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BUILDING A LIFE (2006-2014)

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My Road to the Rock Hall: Rock and Roll Pit Stop

Years later, now with three kids at home and living in Michigan, we planned another road trip to D.C. I made a quiet plea to Marilú: “Let’s stop in Cleveland.” She raised an eyebrow—“Why Cleveland?” I just smiled. I didn’t tell her the Rock Hall was there until we were already en route. When we arrived, the kids, still young, had zero interest in rock history. They went next door to the science museum while I rushed through the exhibits like a man racing a stopwatch. Every hour, they’d ask, “Are you done yet?” I wasn’t. Not even close. But I had to leave without seeing it all. My long-awaited pilgrimage was rushed, but I had made it. I touched the place I’d dreamt about.

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CRACKS AND SHIFTS (2015-2020)

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My Road to the Rock Hall: From Far-off to Front Row

And then, as if by cosmic joke or destiny, the job I took at Moen was headquartered just outside of Cleveland. Out of nowhere, the home of the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame became my new backyard. Two months in, Moen hosted our leadership conference at the Hall. We had an exclusive pass to the museum. I gave a speech with a massive photo of the Rolling Stones behind me, half-joking to the audience that I was ready to be their Ron Wood. He wasn’t an original member of the Stones, but he joined later and became indispensable, bringing his own style while blending into something iconic. That was the spirit I hoped to bring to Moen.

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Eventually, we moved to Cleveland. Since then, I’ve become a member, and more than that, something like an unofficial ambassador. Every time someone visits, I insist on taking them to my Hall of Fame. It’s my sacred ground. And now, my kids care too. What once felt unreachable has become part of our family lore.

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LETTING GO AND FINDING MYSELF AGAIN (2021–2025)

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My Road to the Rock Hall: Local Resident, Lifelong Roddie

What once felt unreachable now feels within reach. The Rock & Roll Hall of Fame is no longer just a place I admire from afar—it’s a dream I hope to share. This book is my way of opening a conversation, of proposing something meaningful: a collaboration that honors the Hall’s mission while celebrating the fans who live and breathe rock every day. If this vision moves forward, it would be a full-circle moment decades in the making. The Hall that fueled so many of my musical obsessions could become part of my own story—and maybe, in some small way, I’ll get to leave a note in the margins of rock’s living history.

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