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My Dad, The Rebel!

Please note: Our inventory is limited as we may have only received a few posters in total. Most of our items are obtained from film premieres, studios, and from autographed hounds such as the one in the story below:

   

Out of all the people I knew, I would have never described my dad as rebellious. That is until I discovered something in the attic. And then I heard my dad's story and finally realized, I got my rebellious streak from him. When he was younger, he was an absolute bad-ass! 

My parents are mostly strict but my grandparents were even stricter. They were the "TV is the Devil" kind of parents. They never wanted any of their children to enjoy what the entertainment world offered. For them, such distractions were hindrances to prevent their way into heaven. Yep, my grandma and grandpa were heaps crazy! And so my dad and his siblings lived quieter lives growing up. Until, however, my dad had enough! 

Unbeknownst to my folks, my dad loved Pearl Jam. He secretly bought their albums, had their posters hidden in his closet, and so on. When his folks would go out at night, he'd bring out his own-bought (my dad is a great saver) sound system and blast Pearl Jam inside the house. And since he was the oldest and often babysat his younger siblings, no ever told on him. 

But one night, Pearl Jam had come to his neck of the woods and held a concert there. Unfortunately, my dad already spent his allowance savings on the sound system and the new Pearl Jam record. Luckily, however, my dad’s friend, my Uncle Frank, had an extra ticket and a backstage pass to the concert. Uncle Frank always had his connections when it came to stuff like this. Anyways, that night, when my grandparents went to bed, my dad snuck out and had the night of his life. 

He rocked all night with his favorite band. And after the concert, he and my Uncle Frank sneaked into backstage to meet them. When he was telling the story, I saw my dad's face light up as he described meeting Pearl Jam. It was as if he had seen God or something. He couldn't recount much as all he remembers was how in aw he was at their presence. But he did remember getting the band to sign his posters. It was his stack that found in the attic. 

So now, he gave me all of them so I can dispose of them neatly. He kept one around for his memories' sake, but the others, he requested, that I sell somewhere so other fans can share in the glory of Pearl Jam! 

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