I’ve been a fan of Hard Rock Cafe ever since I set foot in the original location in London, England way back in 1995. I was 12 years old then, but now that I’m an adult (by age, not by maturity level), whenever I find myself near a location, I pop in to pick up a collectible pin from that particular location. Of course, with locations closing seemingly by the year, it’s becoming increasingly harder to locate them- Even my ‘hometown’ Detroit location shut its doors for good in 2019 after a fifteen-year run.

Never-the-less, as we pulled into Niagara, Ontario to admire the natural splendor of the Niagara Falls from the Canadian’s viewpoint, I spotted the iconic Gibson Les Paul silhouette that has become synonymous with Hard Rock Cafe restaurants.

“Oh, we’re stopping in there before we leave,” I proclaimed to those poor souls trapped within the Chevy Traverse I was piloting. They were, of course, good sports about it, but I guess it helps that it was my wife, daughter, father and cousin, and we were already full-tilt in adventure mode.

After basking in the cool mist of the falls from a couple of different vantage points, we took a few obligatory photos to prove we had been there- as if anyone would doubt such a claim and began the trek towards the Hard Rock Cafe’s gift shop. As I mentioned previously, this would afford me the opportunity to pay far too much money for a small piece of metal that was adorned with colorful enamel paint, just to bring it home, push it unceremoniously into a framed piece of corkboard in our home-office, unlikely to ever be seen by anyone other than my family, and our dogs. Oh well- YOLO, as the kids used to say.

I browsed through the selection of collectible pins, and eventually settled on one that featured a small spinning Ferris wheel which was particularly satisfying to play with; I guess that’s likely a sign of undiagnosed ADHD, but who has time to get tested, anyways? I grabbed the pin and made my way to the counter where my daughter had joined in on the activity, selecting her own pin to commemorate our journey to the falls.

The cashier, upon inspecting our selections, made note that we were buying two of the same pins.

“Yep, like father like daughter, I guess- That’s actually why we’re in Canada in the first place; We’re going to see Rush tomorrow.”

Suddenly his demeanor seemed to shift, “That ain’t Rush.” he scoffed.

Making note of the confused look on my face, he briefly elaborated, his piercing blue eyes reiterating his sincerity, “No Neil. No Rush.”

“Ah, yeah- I get it,” as I began to defend my position to someone whose opinion I didn’t value in the first place- Why am I like this? “I had that same thought when they first announced the tour, but then I realized it was an opportunity to see Geddy and Alex together again, and that’s enough for me. I’m sure if they think Anika is suitable, then I’m sure she’ll be fine. Plus, this is my first opportunity to take my daughter, so it should be a good time.”

“Yeah. Tap your card here,” he stated curtly, obviously dismissing the value of my argument.

In my best Midwestern ‘kill him with kindness’ voice, I thanked him as he passed me the receipt, and he wished me well, and in spite of his personal feelings, he told us to enjoy the show, because even in their disapproval, it has been my experience that most Canadians are nothing if not polite, and that’s something that’s endeared them to me.

I mean, I also love their coffee (Tim Hortons), their beer (Labatt), their sport (hockey), and the greatest progressive rock band ever to grace the Earth, but who’s keeping track?

We left the comfortable shelter of the air-conditioned store to venture back into the August humidity that closely aligned Ontario with what we’re familiar with in Michigan- Thick air and sweat-soaked hats season.

Our next stop would be the town that Neil grew up in, St. Catharines, Ontario, where we’d visit the Neil Peart Pavilion at Lakeside Park in Port Dalhousie. The Pavilion, obviously named in Neil’s honor, was erected after the famed drummer, lyricist, author, and- most importantly- father and husband, passed following his battle with Glioblastoma, an aggressive brain tumor that carries an average lifespan of 15-months after diagnosis. I always found it to be a cruel and unfair end to the life of a man who was so brilliant and insightful- He was, by all accounts, extremely well read, and exceedingly well spoken.

As a testament to the lyrics penned by Neil in the Rush song “Lakeside Park” in which he nostalgically recounts attending the park through his youth, upon our arrival the pavilion was filled with live music-a funk reggae type band, and various vendors offering libations for sale, but we were on a mission.

Of the five of us, my dad, Matt (my cousin) and I were the Rush fans- Don’t get me wrong, my wife listens (because she has to) and my daughter is, and has been, developing a taste for the prog rock icons, but the three of us are the ones who have been following for decades, or in my dad’s case, since he first saw them in 1977. (He actually pleaded with my mother to name me Neil, but lost out to her wishes for me to be named after my uncle, instead)

Over the past decade or so, the three of us have spent countless hours sharing laughs and listening to the entire catalog of Rush while we battle one another in a card-game known as cribbage. The game, which has opponents peg their points on a board known as a “Cribbage Board” until the winner achieves 121 points, originated in England in the 1600’s, and has been depicted in the works of English author Charles Dickens. Although the game is fairly prevalent in the American Midwest, in my travels, it seems to be an obscure oddity in much of the United States, although in a recent trip to Hawaii, I did spot an exceptionally beautiful cribbage board crafted from Koa, and there are a few examples of cribbage boards drilled into shotgun stocks at the World War 1 Museum in Kansas City, Missouri.

I mention those two boards to segue into this- Many cribbage players fail to remain content with a run-of-the-mill store-bought cribbage board, and we’re no different. In fact, Matt had a custom circular board crafted to honor our favorite band which included the bold RUSH nameplate found on their 1974 debut album, as well as the iconic Starman logo that became synonymous with their album 2112, in which the band took a defiant stance against their record label, responding to demands for radio-friendly content with a twenty-minute-thirty-three-second epic that paralleled the dystopian novella “Anthem” that had been penned by controversial individualist Ayn Rand. As an added touch, even the pegs used to keep score were custom made to represent the band’s nicknames for one another, Dirk (Geddy), Lerxst (Alex) and Pratt (Neil).

Our mission was simple- Convene a meeting of the “Crib Club” at the Neil Peart Pavilion and play a game of cribbage on the Rush board. The board- and our attire- garnered much attention from fellow Rush fans who were in town for the shows and had a similar idea to visit the pavilion- One pleasant couple that we spoke with at length had traveled all the way from Germany. In spite of nature’s best efforts to the contrary, the wind from a squall warning could not deter us, and although we had to pick up our cards a few times, I am happy to report that I won the match. Take THAT, gentlemen.

Upon taking in the beautiful view of Lake Ontario, and scanning for other things mentioned within the song, we retreated to the vehicle to make our way towards downtown Toronto where we’d spend the evening playing cards while waiting for the countdown on Matt’s phone that began on October 17th 2025 to change from “1 DAY UNTIL RUSH” to zero. We were so close, we could feel it…

The following day, we stood in line outside Scotiabank Arena chatting with fellow fans and anxiously awaiting the doors to open. At 630PM, right on schedule, we began to file in, one-by-one, and right on schedule, the lines for tour merchandise began to grow as fans looked to memorialize their attendance through hats, shirts, and other swag that proudly stated to anyone unwilling to attend- I WAS THERE! Take THAT Hard Rock Cafe guy!

While I’d often find myself in the first ten rows, your budget determines your seating, and when you’re purchasing tickets for the whole family, that budget gets split three-ways, so we took our place in the second row of the upper bowl, which I was amazed to find was an exceptional vantage point of the stage- Alex’s side, or Stage Right. As I watched fans file into the floor seats, I was mildly envious, but I also knew I was introducing my wife and daughter to Rush in a way they had never experienced before, and that quelled any true FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) I may have had.

With my family’s $1,014 CAD bag of Rush merch at my feet, and a capless bottle of Coke Zero (you know, for security), we waited for the show the start, and then- It did.

Now, here’s the thing- As much as I somewhat villainize the Hard Rock Cafe guy, I empathized. In fact, when Rush had announced they’d be touring again, I felt exceptionally torn. I grew up on Rush, and I loved Neil. When news broke that he had passed, I was devastated. I’m not ashamed to admit that I wept, and every now and again, when I think about my own daughter, and that Neil’s daughter Olivia must navigate this world without her father, it’s hard not to become emotional. After relishing in the brilliance of Rush’s R40 tour, in which they cleverly established a set-list that took them back in time through their catalog as their gear and stage set-up would cascade backwards through the years with the songs, I held out some level of hope that they’d put out a new album, and perhaps we’d get another tour. After all, the backdrop following the show said, “R40+?” which called into question whether or not this really was the end of the road for the band.

Of course, it wasn’t until after Neil had passed when Geddy’s legendary book “My Effin Life” hit shelves that we fans got a true look at the conclusion of that tour, in which Neil walked off the stage, away from his bandmates, and closed the door on that chapter of his life. He had decided that he no longer wished to be “The Professor,” instead trading that title for “The Librarian” at his daughter’s school, and after giving us fans 40 plus years of legendary works, who could blame the guy for wanting to just be a father, and a husband? After all, he’d held both of those titles before and had them cruelly and brutally stripped away.

Then came the initial reports that Geddy and Alex were playing together again.

“Oh cool!” I thought. “Maybe they’ll release some new tracks, or something… maybe with a drum machine- After all, they always said they couldn’t see themselves touring as Rush again without Neil.”

Then came the announcement that very few of us were prepared for- First it was the mere announcement that they’d be touring again, but that raised more questions than answers- Chief among them was the obvious; Who would fill the vast void left by Neil’s passing? Dave Grohl? Mike Portnoy? Some other professional wild card? Perhaps a selection of drummers, each playing a few songs here and there?

As someone who has been playing for forty years, and spent some time working in a drum shop, I’ve always considered myself pretty well versed on not only drum gear, but also on drummers, so when the name Anika Nilles began to fill my facebook feed as Geddy and Alex’s selection, I’m slightly ashamed to admit that my initial response was, “Who?!”

Don’t get me wrong, I took to google and immediately began to familiarize myself with the German drumming phenom, and I was impressed with what I saw, but- Rush? Neil? I wasn’t convinced, and initially I was fairly content with the R40 experience having been the one I’d remember them for, but… also… Geddy… Alex…

Matt and my dad were excited about the announcement, and that sealed the deal. I had to go. WE had to go, and if Anika was good enough for Geddy and Alex, we owed her the opportunity to prove them right. With that said, I wanted to approach this opportunity to see Rush again with an open mind, so I’d intentionally avoided any interviews, videos, set-lists or internet hype regarding the tour dates leading up to this one. I wanted to remain objective, and unencumbered by the confirmation bias that could easily creep in if I allowed other people’s opinions to pre-determine my own disposition.

As the show began, while I sat in Section 310, Row 2, Seat 17, I knew I was experiencing something I never thought I’d get to experience again, let alone being able to share it with my wife, or my daughter (who was a mere one-year-of-age at the time of the R40 tour). It was hard not to feel overcome with emotion.

For the next nearly four hours, I watched as my daughter laughed along with the comedy in the introduction video that opened the show, and I beamed with pride when I caught her singing along to Animate, because only a Rush fan knows the catalog beyond the radio hits like Tom Sawyer or Spirit of Radio. When the intermission clock reached zero, and immediately began counting back up, I was amazed as she picked up on the foreshadowing and shouted “2112!” as she realized what was coming next, but the part that I loved the most was watching her watching Anika all night long.

The thing is, my daughter knows how much Neil meant to me. She saw the tears when he passed. She hears how I speak of him, and how my own father speaks of him, and how those around us speak of him- He was one of a kind. But last night, Emma watched a girl, just like her, who was able to sit behind Geddy and Alex and deliver an absolutely monstrous performance that captivated 20,000 hardcore Rush fans, leaving us all begging for more.

After the show I told her- You can do that. You just have to believe, and practice your ass off, but you can do that.

Still, I’ve seen the comments, “Neil isn’t there,” or “It’s not the same without Neil.”

However, I disagree. Neil was there. In nearly every word that Geddy sang, Neil was there- His hand penned most of those lyrics. In every perfectly executed drum-fill, Neil was there, much the same as a beautiful pianist can recreate the works of famed composers, Neil’s works were brought back to life by Anika, and even though some were reimagined in her own style, that’s ok. The truth is, I think if she were trying to match each and every fill, cymbal crash, or rhythm exactly as Neil did, that’s when it would feel insincere. She wasn’t trying to be Neil- She was and is Anika Nilles, and she helped perform the works of Neil Peart to ensure old fans can continue to enjoy them while new fans continue to discover them, and that is a tribute that far exceeds the touching videos and dedications that were so tastefully incorporated into the show last night.

It’s 2026 and I got to experience Rush with the people I love. Long live Neil Peart. Long live Rush.