One of the first childhood memories I can recall involves being stung by a bee. It was summer in the woods of upstate New York and the screen door was full of holes as usual in our old spooky house. My mom and I were lying across an ugly brown coffee stained sofa watching one of the many soap operas she never failed to keep up with. I had dropped my blanket on the floor and reached down to pick it back up when it got me. I remember the pain of course, but more than that I remember my mom wiping the tears out of my eyes. I remember looking at her face and knowing I was home. Many years later she died from a horrible disease that to this day I don’t think I fully grasp the concept of. On March 29th, 2012, I hosted a benefit concert to both understand and raise awareness about that disease. A few musicians, about a hundred people and an insurmountable amount of friendship later, I have come to realize that I will never have to endure another bee sting alone.

Jean Elizabeth Ellsweig died on March 18th, 2011 from a two-decade long battle with Multiple Sclerosis. I am her daughter. I am now twenty-five years old and a music publicist by day, music journalist (sometimes) by night. If you asked me what I did a year ago, it had a lot to do with listening to THE WEAKERTHANS pretty much exclusively for a good three-month period. It took a while, but in the end I got off the couch and into something more productive. A friend of mine whose mother suffers from MS mentioned something in an e-mail about “filling a void.” It seemed that there were a lot of people feeling a lack of support system and a brokenness within the MS community. One of the things I always got from the songs I loved was that if it’s not being done, there’s always room to do it. Thus, a benefit concert was born.

Move On, MS: A Night to Keep You Moving Against Multiple Sclerosis happened on March 29th, 2012. The months leading up to it were some of the scariest, most stressful and nerve-wracking moments of my life. I slept like shit and worried more than ever in my life. I whined a lot. I sent a ton of unanswered e-mails. Fortunately by the New Year I had half a lineup, a venue and quite a few new friends.

I was introduced to Brian Carley from THE WALTZ (formerly of PENFOLD) who without question, agreed to be a part of this night. With him on board, I asked my friend Jon Loudon of RESTORATIONS to play acoustic and my friends Oscar Rodriguez (of NAKATOMI PLAZA) and Anthony Walker to play as well. A month or so later, Brian introduced me to Jose Prieto of SAD AND FRENCH, which would quickly become my new favorite band. My very good friend, Brian Pacris, was my DJ for the evening. All of these amazing people donated their time, energy and commitment to a person they either hadn’t seen in years or barely knew. Not one of them knew my mom, or even knew she was suffering from MS before she died.

I believe it was January or early February, when I was sitting at my desk at Big Machine Agency where I work and a friend of mine forwarded me a press release about a young rock photographer living with MS who was working with the Multiple Sclerosis Association of America. I immediately reached out to the publicist who sent it out, who put me in touch with Anna Webber. After a cup of coffee and an entirely too short conversation, Anna became my friend, partner and confidant. She has inspired me more than anyone I’ve met and was integral in making Move On, MS a success. She introduced me to the people at the MSAA who stood behind me, believed me and encouraged me. To them, I donated the proceeds.

The night was a huge success. Despite convincing myself that no one was going to show up, well over one hundred people did. We raffled off items donated by Roadrunner Records, Sumerian, Merge, Fat Wreck, Dangerbird, Live Nation, Tiny Engines, and many more. MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE sent an autographed guitar which we decided would be best auctioned off another time. MusicSkins donated customized iPhone skins that reflected the amazing poster designed by Jose Prieto (ilovemisery.tmblr.com) which were printed by Chris at Sire Press in Philadelphia. Beers and shots were in abundance. My friend from growing up, Jackie Pfeffer, took photos. A possible New York City shortage of Jameson can also be blamed on Move On, MS.

Losing someone you love is like being brutalized. Nothing takes that away and nothing should. It’s something we all go through at some point; we all get blown apart. Being able to create something special that may help a lot of people was an incredible experience and something I’m very proud of. In some ways it’s also a band-aid. When it’s over there’s a momentary feeling of uncertainty. Am I really back here? What do I do tomorrow? Am I needed anymore? That’s when you throw on your favorite LAGWAGON record and get moving because there’s always more fighting to do. I am lucky enough in my life to be able to combine what I love most with my career. I get to have music around me every hour of every day. The real gift however, is that I was able to use it to remember the person who gave me this life to begin with, and to make a tiny difference in all the other daughters and sons whose parents are suffering from a disease they don’t fully understand and all the kids who sometimes get their fingers stung by bees.

Feature photo by Jackie Pfeffer.