The first time I met Dan Santoro was to trade him my record collection for a tattoo. I was sick of moving it and he’d just opened a record store, so there we were. He was working at the illustrious Smith Street Tattoo in Brooklyn, which was at the peak of its powers with his addition. He added a folksy shine that had a deadly seriousness to it. It felt like being tattooed by an old friend, and we bullshitted the whole time, mostly about music and the punk roots we shared. When I got home, I packed up one more record for him, one I’d planned to keep: Age of Quarrel from New York City hardcore punk outfit Cro Mags. As much as I wanted to keep it, his enthusiasm made me want to send it to him even more.

The second time I met him, a year or two later, was on the West Branch Delaware River in Pennsylvania. I was wading, he was floating past, and the moment was surreal—I’d had no idea he fished. We made eye contact, and I wasn’t sure if he recognized me, so I said, “Hey, I tipped you with Age Of Quarrel,” and he smiled. The next time I saw him we talked fishing.

I’ll see him pop up in the most random places, casually killing it, whatever he’s doing. He’s a renaissance man’s renaissance man—husband, father, artist in many mediums, multiple business owner (including a fly shop), immersive enthusiast, teacher, student, fishing rat and more. And those are just his present endeavors. Santoro is a wormhole of rad experiences. And he’s just having fun—that’s his secret to finding the eighth day of the week for it all.

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