The Light Led Me Home

It’s my birthday. And I want to share how I found beacons of light (even in this year that has felt incredibly dark).

Last night, as I stood on Figge Plaza surrounded by the glow of Evanescent Field, the largest light installation in Iowa and one of the biggest in the country, I was overwhelmed. The artwork itself was stunning, but what truly moved me was the crowd. I don’t think I’ve ever been at an event in the Quad Cities where so many people I love and admire were all in one place.

This community is special. And I still pinch myself that I ended up here.

I spent my entire adolescence dreaming of leaving. I was fiercely passionate about the music industry and had built a surprisingly impressive Rolodex for a small-town high schooler in Eastern Iowa. My friends in Chicago had access to art, music, and culture that felt light-years away. I didn’t hate the Quad Cities, I just never thought it had anything to offer someone like me.

My only experience with downtown Davenport growing up was tagging along with my dad to Blues Fest. I loved the skyline and the riverfront, but I never even entered downtown. That changed when I had my senior photos taken by Kevin Colby. We shot at Dillon Fountain, walked the Skybridge, and stood outside the Figge. I remember being shocked that a museum like that existed here. Who knew?

I went off to college determined to land a job in the music business and live in a major city. I moved into a historic building next to Millennium Park, walked to the Live Nation office, and caught shows at the House of Blues. This was the dream. I was surrounded by creatives, amazing food, and people from a million backgrounds (something I still yearn for).

But even with all that, I couldn’t shake a sense of emptiness and while I'm not sure I would have been able to identify it at the time, I know that I missed the feeling of being more intimately connected to a community.

I came home for a short summer visit and found myself downtown during Bix weekend. Wandering the streets, I ended up at 2nd and Main and looked up at a banner that read: River Music Experience. That banner shifted something in me. Just knowing a space like that existed made me rethink everything.

Around the same time, across the river in Rock Island, Sean Moeller was making waves with Daytrotter. I’d mention I was from the Quad Cities and watch the tone shift music professionals suddenly knew about this place. I was in awe and full of pride over some of the acts that were recording near my hometown. The realization that something was happening here planted a seed.

And Chicago was expensive, especially the version of it I wanted. My savings ran out, and I moved back home feeling a heavy mix of shame and resentment. But I also felt peace. I’ve written about the bond I share with Kara. Our souls are tethered. There’s a comfort when I’m with her that defies explanation. Even in the midst of what felt like personal failure, my gut said: you’re in the right place.

I picked up odd jobs, trying to save enough to relaunch somewhere else. But life had other plans. I landed a role at Wide River Winery, just as the show American Pickers was exploding, which is just another cool QC story. I started booking bands, met the legendary Ellis Kell, extraordinary human, blues musician and Director of Programming at RME. Slowly, a community began to form around me.

Ellis convinced me to stick around. His influence is still felt in so many of us.

Then came a job with the City of Davenport, where I learned the history of River Renaissance, the 2001 bond referendum that made the Figge, RME, and Skybridge possible. In 2015, I joined the Downtown Davenport Partnership and have spent nearly a decade trying to leave this place even better than I found it.

Yes, it looks like fun (and it is) but there are more hard days than I’d care to admit. Nights like last night remind me why it all matters.

It’s humbling to stand beside the people who laid the groundwork for projects like Evanescent Field. I can’t imagine how hard it was to sell the vision of River Renaissance back then, to convince a community to invest in something so bold. But they did. And I’m forever in awe of their work.

Last night felt like a full-circle moment. I stood among a thousand friends. I felt so seen by the people who asked about Kara. I watched the faces of early leaders light up. I stood beside colleagues who are in the trenches, fighting to keep the momentum going. And Sean Moeller booked Ben Kweller—the exact kind of vibe that makes the Quad Cities magical and a younger version of me would have been ridiculously giddy over this thought.

I never take nights like this for granted.

I think a lot about what it means to come home when you least expect it. Not just returning to a place, but discovering that somewhere you once dismissed has quietly been shaping itself into exactly what you needed. Sometimes home isn’t where you planned to be, it’s where your soul feels steady. It’s where the people you love are. It’s where your purpose reveals itself slowly, over years, through moments that feel ordinary until you realize they weren’t. I didn’t chase this version of my life but it found me. And I’m better because of it.

This is a downtown that’s earned its stripes. And somehow, in doing this work, I’ve been healing my inner child.

I think about those seemingly ordinary moments - a street corner, a banner, a mural, that can spark something deeper. That can change the trajectory of a life. I think about what Leo Villareal’s work might inspire in others. I think about the illumination of the Figge, and the fact that construction is finally underway for our own riverfront park at Main Street Landing, a project inspired by Maggie Daley Park in Chicago, the same neighborhood I once looked out over from my apartment.

No, Davenport will never be Chicago. But we punch above our weight. And in the Quad Cities, you don’t just get to dream big, you get to build it.

I’m glad I followed my gut. I’m grateful for the nudges that made me reconsider this place.

Even when I’ve doubted myself or the path, I’ve been given signs, over and over again, that I’m right where I’m supposed to be. Close to Kara. Telling our story. Building something real.

The light led me home.

Thanks for reading.

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If You're New Here

Hi, I’m Alisha, Kara’s sister and biggest advocate. Kara was diagnosed with Stage 4 Triple-Negative Invasive Ductal Carcinoma (TNBC) in December 2024. Her cancer has spread to her bones, liver, and other areas, making this an incredibly difficult and uncertain journey.

Despite it all, Kara’s light still shines so brightly—she’s full of love, giggles, and endless positivity. This blog is where I share updates on her fight, the highs and lows, and the incredible community rallying around her.

Thank you for being here, for your love, support, and prayers. We need them more than ever. 💛 And of course, Go Hawks!

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