Getting Back to Where We Once Belonged

In 2019, I moved out. On the first Saturday in my first apartment, I went to Punk Island.

Punk Island is a collectively organized, free, all-ages, all-DIY music festival that’s traditionally been held on Randall’s Island (a small island in between Queens and Manhattan). There’s a bunch of stages with simultaneous performances, all organized by different groups, that put on about eight hours of live music. It’s awesome, an amazing example of grassroots execution, but it’s a lot more than that.

The summer of 2019 was a heady time. Healthie had emerged from a tumultuous period and was back on a growth trajectory. I turned 22, wasn’t working 90 hour weeks anymore, and could afford rent. The combination of sticky June weather, Corona 30ozers, and some of my favorite bands felt like a graduation. I’d gone from playing little league baseball on Randall’s as a kid, to what felt like the big leagues, the start of real independence.

The summer ended, and we became a lot more familiar with Coronaviruses than Corona Familiar. Punk Island was cancelled for two years, happened on a very small scale in 2022, and was on a Bay Ridge pier in 2023.

On June 8th, 2024, five years later, Punk Island came back to Randall’s. It felt like a homecoming. The world’s changed. The bands changed. I’ve changed. The circle comes back around.

Traditions serve as a waypoints. They are mile markers to demarcate all that is different, and to celebrate what was sturdy enough to remain. It’s good to be here.

(all photos from Brooklyn Vegan)