On Meeting Kevin Hazlett

First met Kevin Hazlett, I guess, when I was just a kid. It was probably playing "Fenway Park" at the Sweeney house in Interlachen Park, in Hopkins. I played Little League with the Sweeney family and spent most of my summer days at their house, which meant running all over the neighborhood to the Carr's, to the Sawyer's, to the Hazlett's. My family always seemed to be seated within screwing around distance of the Hazletts in church.

By 1982, Kevin was living in New York and I was hitchhiking across the country (lived in San Jose, CA at the time) to a writers' workshop in Vermont. Kevin was gracious enough to let me sleep on his couch for a week. I vaguely recall a lot of 4am nights, a subway turnstile jump (my bad), and spending a lot of time walking the streets, handing out free tickets to a gig his band was playing toward the end of my stay. That night ended with a drunken saxophone player behind the wheel and me in the back of a flatbed truck, trying desperately to keep their gear—and myself—from spilling out into the street.

It was 1991, I guess, when Kevin asked to join a basement band I was in. I didn't flatter myself that he wanted to play my songs; we had a great bass player sitting in with us while between bands and that was the obvious attraction. The basement got sold and Kevin got Steve Foley to let us use the Replacements' practice space while they were on tour. We got a real drummer. And a gig. The gig ended when the police showed up as I was doing the "testing, testing" thing into the mike. That's my rock star story.

Tonight I go to a benefit for Kevin. Cancer, 'nough said. There will be great music and really lousy jokes. I look forward to it.