Matty and I became friends when we were kids. We grew up in the 80s and early 90s playing sports, watching sports, riding bikes all over town, listening to music, watching movies, playing video games, and competing at pretty much anything we could turn into a competition. Summers felt endless. At Matty's we swam in his pool in the summer, played wiffle ball in his cul-de-sac, and driveway basketball. At my house we played dunk hoop all day and night in my garage, or traded baseball cards. Great parents, siblings, good food and a warm and loving place to lay your head down at either home. 

None of it seemed important at the time. It was just life. We didn’t know we were making memories. We were just living.

Matty died when he was 20, so all of my memories of him are young. I kept getting older. I got married, raised kids, built a career, have run small businesses and took on all the responsibilities that come with getting older.

Somewhere along the way, I also stopped doing some of the things that came so naturally when I was younger. Dreaming about something just because it sounded cool. Trying something I had no idea how to do. Making something that might not work. Playing. Competing. Just seeing where an idea might go.

Years later, I started feeling this pull to create. I had never really thought of myself as a creative person, so I wasn’t even sure what that meant. But the more I followed it, the more I found myself reconnecting with that time in my life and, naturally, with Matty.

That became Goat Street Goods.

I’m not trying to go back and be young again. I’m bringing all of those years with me. Marriage, kids, work, businesses, life. I’m just trying to tap back into some of that willingness to dream, try things, make things, fail sometimes and keep going.

And this isn’t about making only the things Matty and I would have agreed on. We didn’t agree on everything then either. Sometimes I think he would love something I’m working on. Sometimes I think he would laugh at it. And sometimes I can almost hear him saying, “That’s not for me, but put it out. I'm sure someone will like it.”

That feels like us.

Goat Street Goods is where I get to follow those ideas. Sometimes it becomes a shirt. Sometimes artwork or a collaboration. Sometimes it’s a game. Sometimes it doesn’t become anything at all.

That’s part of creating too.

I don’t want to live in the past. I just don’t want to lose everything that was good about the way we lived back then.

There is still time to play, compete, dream, make things, try something new and create memories without even realizing you’re doing it.

That was our friendship. That’s Goat Street Goods.