On Mary Vettel

Mary Vettel passed away yesterday afternoon. None of you knew her. If you own any of my books, you'll find her on the “Acknowledgments” page of each. You'll find my last two novels dedicated to her as she dealt with pancreatic cancer.

From my perspective, she didn't battle cancer; she humored it. Of course, there was a fight, but she never mentioned it. Along with the chemo, she spoke of tests and procedures I'd never heard of, but she never complained, never a woe is me.

Mary Vettel was my best friend over the last 17 years. We never met in person. Never even talked over the phone. She lived in Hampton Bays, New York—I never even checked a map. Seems strange now, but I guess we just settled in as modern-day pen pals. Email seemed like our form of communication.

We met through a site called QueryTracker, devoted to assisting writers in their pursuit of a literary agent. I was finishing up my second novel, No Happier State, at the time, and Mary asked several times to read it before I took her seriously. She grudgingly agreed to let me read her novel Death at the Drive-In (Amazon: https://a.co/d/4hbesSG – buy it, it's terrific!). Since then, she read everything I've written, offering constructive criticism and suggestions, as did I with everything she sent me. We kept each other busy.

We talked about everything. We helped each other with life. It wasn't till a couple of weeks ago that we told each other how we really felt. Sometimes you don't have the luxury of time to tell someone how much you love them. I'm glad we were able to do that.

On the two Pauls

 [I awoke a while back with the need to finally write something down concerning two friends who passed away four days apart back in late March. I wrote a version of the following that day but never bothered to post it anywhere.]

                                                        Not sure who to attribute these photos to.                                                                                                             Speak up if they are yours.

I'm gonna say I met rock 'n' roll photographer Paul Lundgren in late 2015 at a Bryant-Lake Bowl party hosted by Sharon Samels. He proved to be a good guy to sit/stand with at shows—if you didn't mind him dashing away in mid-conversation to catch that perfect shot. He'd return and one of us would invariably say “what a great fu¢king band!”

I don't believe “Front Row Paul” Engebretsen—rock 'n' roll enthusiast extraordinaire—and I were ever formally introduced. Just repeatedly crossing paths at so many shows and so many opportunities to have FRP turn to find me in the second row and one of us commenting “what a great fu¢king band!”

And so, I was happy to call both Pauls my friends, as could most everyone attending music events in the Twin Cities over the last fifty years. Early 2022 brought an email from David Aquilina—whom Paul Lundgren had introduced me to at a show—inviting Paul and I to join him for some Twins baseball that summer. He even had a name for us: The Gentlemen of Leisure. And matching jerseys. Huh?

By 2024, Robert Wilkinson and FRP had joined the crew, and even I was enjoying a bit of celebrity. “Who's the other guy?” people wanted to know. They'd point at me in public and say: “Aren't you that other guy with those guys at the Twins games?” Yeah, that's me.

By this February, David put out a call to pay up for this year's games, ending the text with a comment about our first game not being until May to allow time for Paul Lundgren to recover from his brain surgery. I knew nothing about it, though I did know FRP hadn't been feeling well all year. We all paid our money looking forward to another season of baseball.

Paul's surgery seemed to go well but FRP gave us the devastating news about pancreatic cancer in late February. By late March, I stood with a packed crowd at the Schooner dreading news of the coma Paul Lundgren would not awaken from, and four days later, Front Row Paul was gone too.

Sure, there will be a bench commemorating Mr. Lundgren on a Lake Harriet path and FRP Fest at Palmer's was a rousing success with a fund to carry Mr. Engebretson's passion into the future but, for me, nothing will replace seeing them at a show.

Yesterday, I attended a Minnesota Music Resistance gathering at the Hook & Ladder. This had been FRP's brainchild and both Pauls would've surely been in attendance. I finally saw Christy Costello and her band (I know, what took me so long?) and wanted so bad to track down both Pauls and exchange a hearty “what a great fu¢king band!”