It all started in 1971, well before I knew better. At 6 years old, I didn’t know anything about rock & roll and its world of chaos. I just knew I liked the music and the guys playing it (or seeming to play it) were funny. My first actual music crush was with the Hudson Brothers. Anyone remember them? Razzle Dazzle? They once had a Saturday morning show called that. They were a huge hit where I come from, because they were locals. The Hudson Brothers were from Portland, Oregon, and to me, as a 6 year old, that didn’t matter as much as the fact that Brett Hudson made me giggle. I don’t know how old these guys were at that time, but they had to be at least 20 years older. I remember getting up to impatiently wait for their show to come on, with both my older brother and sister harassing me and calling me all sorts of less enduring things. Mom and Dad were pretty much nonplussed at best with my childhood obsession, though they did go out and get me the records. Of course, we’re talking vinyl here, people. This was 1971, remember? Anyone born at least 15 years later would have no clue what I’m talking about. (Or very little clue unless their parents were good Rock & Roll stewards and educated them)

Fast forward to 1976, when I was 10 years old, still naive to the world around me and glad of it. In between my 6 year old Hudson Brothers crush and the musical turn to come were obsessions with The Osmonds and David Cassidy. It was the early 70’s, people. The innocent times. Unfortunately, the innocence was about to be challenged, and the culprit was to be a band out of New York City that loved to play dress up.

My older brother, Steve, had a weird friend who collected comic books. Aaron, who at age 12 was about as smart as a sack of wet rocks, came to visit with new comic books in hand; he was excited about them even though my brother was not nearly as enthusiastic. However, my brother was enthusiastic about ways to freak out his sisters. My older sister, Debbie, was not so easily freaked out by things. I, on the other hand, was usually very freaked out by just about anything at the time.

Cut to the day the damage was done. Aaron and Steve came barging into my room and asked me if I wanted to see something really cool. Always suspicious of anything my brother and his friends thought was cool, I was reluctant to even let them in my room (I think my actual reaction was to tell them both to “sit on it.” (Yeah buddy! We loved Happy Days at that time, too). Undaunted by my protests, they barged into my room and said, “You really need to see this!”

Unfortunately, I caved in, refraining from throwing anything at either one of them as they entered and let Aaron hand me this comic book. It seemed interesting enough. Nice colors, good drawings, interesting story, and the band who it was based on seemed pretty intriguing. Aaron pointed out to me that they were the band who made the song “Rock & Roll All Nite,” which I used to hear on the local AM radio in Portland. Since I liked the song, I started to look over the book a little more thoroughly. Until Steve told me, “Yeah, it’s cool. They put their own blood in the red ink.”

I instantly dropped the comic book and stepped back. At this point, I did pick up something to throw at them, to which Aaron quickly snatched up his comic book and ran away, and my brother proceeded to call me stupid.

If it had not been for Aaron handing me this crazy, blood printed comic book, I would never have known who Kiss even was. Even more, I would not have began the road leading to the obsessive/compulsive woman I became. Kiss, who is actually quite an awesome band with a niche that no one else could ever fill, became my newest obsession. I pretended at first (at my brother’s expense) to hate them. But, I actually was very intrigued and with the tiny bit of allowance I had I went out and found my own copy of the comic book. My parents, who were less than thrilled by my new musical interest, managed to foster the growing obsession by buying me Kiss albums for Christmas and my birthday. My sister was still just as disinterested in my new musical love as she was in any of the prior ones. I think I know why Mom & Dad fed my musical Frankenstein, though. Parents love their kids and just want them to be happy. I think the motive was to keep me out of trouble as much as possible, and also to make me feel better during a difficult medical time. I was one of the unfortunate kids who had to have a couple surgeries to be able to walk, and it was no picnic. Music was pretty much my life line since I wasn’t as mobile as I wanted to be after each surgery.

So, at 10 years old I was an avid Kiss fan, scorning all other bands that, in my flawed opinion, did not hold a candle to the make-up wearing guys from New York. We’re talking about dreaming of New York City, wanting to go there to see them play. I wanted to be front row center in front of Gene Simmons to watch him breath fire and drool fake blood all over me. This was also when I began to write short stories and many of them included “the extended adventures of Kiss, the talisman owning wonder band.” I also used to pretend I was the DJ of my own radio station, KISS, and it was all Kiss all day and all night. (This was rather prophetic, as I actually was a radio air personality later in life) Yes, people, at 10 up until age 12 all I wanted to do was “rock & roll all night and party every day.” This time, it was not my brother who did the damage to my perfect little rock & roll world.

My then 16 year old sister, Debbie, and her good friend Frank, used to let me come up to her room and listen to music. She managed to introduce me to lots of other music. Apparently, she and Frank thought I needed more in my life than the all mighty and wonderful Kiss. I listened to incredible artists like Aerosmith, Jethro Tull, Peter Frampton, Cream, The Beatles, Journey, and last but not least…REO Speedwagon.

In 1978, REO Speedwagon had already been around for a decade, having come from being a popular college band from the University of Illinois to a band with a top 40 hit. I guess you could say that REO Speedwagon were late bloomers, which to me was cool enough. However, thanks to my sister, I never knew what any of the band members looked like until about 2 years later. Sitting in my sisters frilly room with her and Frank, I wanted to see the cover of the new REO Speedwagon record. My sister, being the 16 year old shrew she could be at that time, refused to let me see the back of the record cover. She would only allow me to see the front, which was this interesting fish with a tuning fork sticking out of its mouth. As cool as that was, it was not what I considered terribly exciting and I of course wanted to see the back of the cover and read any liner notes. Debbie and Frank proceeded to tell me I was not allowed because I was not cool enough yet (actually, those were Frank’s words. My sister only snickered at this and agreed). Of course, I was irritated, and I figured if I could not see what the band looked like I would just enjoy the music, but stay the staunch Kiss fan I was. The guys in REO Speedwagon could not possibly be better looking than them, I thought.

In 1979, my parents uprooted the family from Portland to move to a tiny little town called Vernonia, Oregon. I was not too thrilled with being taken away from my friends, and since I felt the kids in Vernonia were all mean and rude (with a few cool exceptions), I usually stayed home and listened to Kiss and stayed in the music room playing the piano during lunch hours at school. I had always been a music writer from the time I learned to play piano at age 3, so I wrote songs during lunch or just created little musical interludes. It kept me out of trouble. I also taught myself most of the Kiss library of songs on the guitar and diligently learned to play “Beth” on the piano. Up until 1981, that was my musical existence. Nothing else mattered. Looking back on it now, if I had not had the obsessive/compulsive issue I probably would have gone a lot farther with my own music. Sadly, I was not to become like the rock stars I adored, mostly because I did not know how to be anything other than a crazy fan. I wish I could have seen the emotional destruction this behavior was to cause coming and change my own actions as a fan of music.

One day, I went into town with my mother to the grocery store. Now, Vernonia pretty much consisted of one main street with a few little bitty streets branching off from it and a river that snaked through the heart of it. It had everything a little town needed, including a huge magazine rack at the Vernonia Market. This was almost my home away from home. I remember a few times that I stayed after school to hang out with friends and we walked to the store to pick up the latest issues of Rockline Magazine and Tiger Beat. Occasionally, if we were so inclined, we picked up Rolling Stone as well. But on one Fall day in 1981, I was to finally find out what my sister and Frank had kept from me a couple of years prior. REO Speedwagon had recently released “Hi Infidelity,” and it had nabbed the top spot on the Billboard charts. Casey Kasem was singing the band’s praises on the countdown, and it was suddenly very cool to like this band. Being one who did not like trends or following them because others did, I happily stuck to my Kiss music and the occasional tunes from the radio. I did like REO Speedwagon’s music very much, and considered myself a mild fan of them at the time.

This outing to Vernonia Market with my mother was no different than any other, except for the fact that I managed to meet up with my friends Denise and Colleen, who were on a similar grocery pilgrimage with their mothers. Luckily, all three moms consented for us to spend the whole time in the magazine section messing it up with our frantic searches for rock & roll information. If other magazines were in the way, over the shoulder they went. We didn’t care. We wanted our music men. Well, Denise and Colleen did, anyway. I was desperately trying to find anything associated with Kiss in these magazines, and had no desire to read about anyone else.

Rockline Magazine was my “zine” of choice most times, so I went directly to it and started flipping through the pages. Frustration was setting in, as I found not even one word about Kiss, but lots about other people I didn’t really care much about at the time. It wasn’t until I got to the centerfold poster that music and fandom as I knew it changed dramatically. Remember when I said “Hi Infidelity” was the number one record in the country at the time? If you had that record, you probably remember the picture on the inner sleeve, right? Give yourself a moment to reflect upon what I had reported earlier, concerning my sister and her friend Frank. Remember the lack of letting me see the back of the cover? Uh huh. I was only 12 at that time, but I was 14 now. We’re talking puberty having hit, my friends. We’re talking a now 14 year old hormonal puddle of immaturity here! Needless to say, my eyes went straight to the guy on the far right in that picture and my heart skipped a beat or two. Actually, I distinctly remember grabbing Denise by the arm and rasping out, “Who is THAT?!?!”

Denise, thinking I had totally lost my mind, and alarmed that I was gripping her with such strength managed to wrench herself away from me and told me, “That’s REO Speedwagon. You didn’t know that?”

Hell no, I didn’t know that! In hindsight, I think my sister and Frank were actually trying to do me a bit of a favor, but at that time I was quite annoyed with them for keeping this wonderful secret from me. The man who had grabbed my attention from the start was the band’s drummer, Alan Gratzer. He was dark-haired, dressed well, and above all very cute. I did look at the other members of the band at this time, and hopefully Kevin will forgive me for saying this next part. Denise pointed out that she liked Gary Richrath, and showed me who he was. After I looked over everyone else, I told her, “They’re all really cute, but the guy in the middle’s a little weird looking.”

I ran to my mother and begged her to buy the magazine for me, which she reluctantly agreed to do. When I got the magazine home and into my rock & roll lair, I proceeded to read the articles in it, but only the ones about REO Speedwagon. I had to know everything about this band, right down to vital stats of each member. I remember taking the magazine to school with me the next day and making a bunch of copies of that poster and all the pictures of the band I found in it, and then plastered my locker, notebooks, and even my lunch bag with them. I think at this point all my friends were more amused than anything else at my newfound affinity with this band. However, when they fell out of their fandom with REO and onto other acts like AC/DC, The Scorpions, ZZ Top, and others they just thought I was totally insane. Now that I think about it, I believe they had a point.

I was still a very avid REO Speedwagon fan even after graduation and into college. I was in my first year at Mt. Hood Community College when I learned REO Speedwagon was coming to town on their Wheels Are Turning tour. I had never seen them in concert before despite all the begging and pleading I had done as a young teen for the Hi Infidelity and Good Trouble tours. In fact, I had never attended any concerts before this point. As luck would have it, my musical theatre instructor gave the class an assignment that required observation of a stage set up and event preparation. Most of my fellow students were content enough to go to a few local plays or musicals being offered in Portland. Being the obsessive, but determined little minx I was, I got the number to REO Speedwagon’s management office and called them, telling them of my assignment and asking if there was even the smallest possibility that I could observe REO’s road crew set up the band’s stage.

To my surprise (and unbridled joy) they agreed to allow me passage into the backstage area, gave me a ticket to the show, and hooked me up with the infamous Liz “Lizard” Frye, whom I had seen in a documentary of the band aired on MTV. With her help, I got the assignment completed, got an excellent grade, and learned that I really was fascinated with how this band managed to tour as they did. Unfortunately, I also deepened my obsession with REO, and this was ultimately something that would change my life, for the best and the worst.

I did meet the band at this show, and have some lovely memories of these guys being very kind to me, even though I was more nervous than I had ever been in my life being around them. I remember talking to Neal Doughty first, and gave him my synthesizer pin (a little Moog OB-8, which he was enthused about as that was the model of synth he played), then I went to Gary and had him give me an autograph for my father (my dad thought Gary’s playing was the best), I then went to Alan and nervously asked him how his wife was. His wife? Yeah. For some reason, this was all I could stammer out to him. Luckily, as I found out years later, he was actually quite flattered and happy that someone asked him about her. I did manage to talk to Bruce Hall before he darted out the door (I cannot really remember where he was going), also chasing off this really offensive woman who was harassing him. I think he was grateful for this since I got a really big smile from him and a thank you.

Lastly, I went to Kevin Cronin. I saved him for last because by this time I had come to admire him a great deal, as a musician, songwriter, and showman. I was more nervous with him than I was with anyone else in the band, and I thought I would only get his autograph and let him be. I thought there was no way he would have time to talk to some 19 year old kid with all the other fans he had crowding around him. He looked tired, but he still smiled. That amazed me, and what amazed me even more is that when he finally looked at me and went to shake my hand, he didn’t just take my hand to shake it, he took my trembling hand with both of his and told me it was a pleasure to meet me. This is something that will stay with me forever, and also one of many experiences I was to have with Kevin that made me keep such a deep and lasting respect for him even to this day.

This story is already really long, but for the sake of moving things along I will just say that since that concert I kept in touch with a couple members of the band via letters. Kevin had sent one or two notes to me just after he learned a friend of mine and I had started up a local fan club. When that club expanded to a more international level, he sent another one that thanked me and my friend for the support. They were just simple letters, but for me it was as if God had written them. When Alan Gratzer retired from the band in 1988, I was devastated. When Gary Richrath departed in 1989, I was sure the band would be breaking up and it was as if my world had shattered. Then I learned they had hired two new guys to take over Alan and Gary’s spots. I was a little skeptical at first, but being the fan of theirs that I was, I was determined to give these two men every bit of respect that I had given to their predecessors.

It wasn’t until 1990 that I actually met both Dave Amato and Bryan Hitt, the two men who filled the shoes of Gary and Alan. Dave was (and always will be in my mind) an incredibly gifted guitarist and singer who worked with the likes of Ted Nugent, Black Oak Arkansas, and Cher. He has such an interesting and quirky personality, and anyone who is funny and talented always gains my respect.

Bryan was the guy who ended up as the unfortunate recipient of my crush. Being the drummer of the band is the first thing that endured him to me since I have great admiration for all drummers, but aside from being one of the most electrifying and powerful drummers I had ever had the pleasure to see in concert, he was also one of the most handsome and good natured. In fact, he still is today. Meeting them both only heightened my obsession with the band, making me act in ways I normally would not. Ironically, I actually became his webmaster, got to know his family, and really did think he thought of me as a good friend since he had referred to me as such to others.

Honestly, this is where it gets uncomfortable for me. When you delude yourself into believing you are truly friends with a celebrity, you want to believe they love and respect you as much as you love and respect them. My problem is that I was using my association with REO Speedwagon, as big and strong as that association finally became by the winter of 2008, as a band-aid to cover up a very big wound on my heart. I wanted so badly to hear these guys tell me they cared about me and what happened to me. The problem was there was no way they ever could, because there was no way they could make the room in their hearts or minds to cater to the emotional deficiencies of a woman who couldn’t even love herself.

The same held true to the relationships and friendships I gained with other REO Speedwagon fans and members of the band’s inner circle. You can’t expect someone to love you or respect you just because you talk to them online. I started to think that in order to be respected by the fans I had to act like they did, and sometimes that behavior was just plain immature. I think I will always regret being the gossipy, assuming, paranoid person I became for the sake of some people. I honestly thought that was how I needed to be. I know better now. Thank God.

You also can’t expect that the family of a band member will respect you, either. I was blessed to know a couple of the band member’s wives (past and present) and I will forever thank them for their kindness and care for me personally. There are others in REO’s inner circle who I wish I never had the misfortune of knowing in any way, shape, or form. When it comes to the band taking the word of someone they have known for almost 30 years or the word of someone they either sleep with or have slept with, the one who never even got close to getting into bed with the band member will always lose the conflict. I learned this in probably one of the most hurtful ways. I would wish that kind of hurt on no one. Ever.

I think the main reason I am writing this story is to give advice to other fans of all kinds of celebrities. Whether it is music, movies, television, books, or artwork, to be a fan is to have fun. That’s the point of what these celebrities do. They perform or create to give pleasure to those who enjoy that kind of work. It is their career and business, of course. But…if they did not have people excited about what they do, they would not have their career. When a fan no longer feels that same excitement from the works of that celebrity, it is time to move on to something or someone else that fascinates them. Now, if you cannot recognize when that time has come, then you may risk having your heart broken.

I did recognize when it was time to move on. There was no longer the same excitement for me in going to these shows. I had grown tired of the political game that existed between REO’s fans and the band’s inner circle. I started to hate venue security with a passion, and loathed going to the will call booth to see if the passes I was afforded would actually be there as promised. I did not like who I had become as a result of my constant obsession with this band, either. I also had just hit the age of 40 a couple years before, and faced other serious health issues. I knew without a doubt it was “time for me to fly,” so-to-speak.

I had made preparations to leave the REO Speedwagon community, stop working with Bryan Hitt’s web site, and stop traveling to see the band. I even told my best friend that the show the band did in Reno of 2008 was gong to be the last show I would attend of theirs, and that I would be telling Bryan I wanted to “retire” from the band’s community. Sadly, I never got that chance.

Due to some pretty dirty dealing by other fans who claimed to be close to one band member and his new spouse, and due to my own folly of trying to be a leader in the fan community, I was pushed out of the band’s community. I had been prepared to say goodbye on my own terms, but I was not prepared to be torn apart and endure the hurt I was blasted with by the fans and a couple members of the band. It would seem that when it all boils down, the only thing that truly mattered to anyone was how much they could gain to get and remain in the good graces of the band. This band was one I had vested over half my life following, loving, respecting, supporting, and even grieving with at times. My name is even on the credits of the “Find Your Own Way Home" CD. You have no idea how bittersweet that actually is now.

But let me make one thing very clear; the fault is mine in this downfall. I cannot blame REO Speedwagon. This was not their fault. It was 100% mine. One very important piece of advice I would wish for you to take from my story is never to blame the honoree for something you personally have control over. You control how you are a fan of any band, from the way you talk about them on message boards and to other fans to the way you listen to the music. If you are lucky enough to know a celebrity personally, you must respect their right to be as they are; you must also understand that they do not think the same way you do about all things. Trying to make them believe or act as you want them to is foolish and will eventually serve to get you nothing but scorn and ridicule from not only them, but your fellow fans, too.

As a result of my not being able to see the damage I was doing with this obsession, I learned the hardest lesson I have ever learned. However, I do have to thank REO for that in a way. Had it not been for what happened, I would not be moving on and taking care of what I have needed to take care of for years. Myself. My respect for some members of the band will never tarnish, because I respect who they are and the talent they have. I whole-heartedly advise going to an REO Speedwagon concert still, because they are and always will be one of the best rock & roll bands in the industry. Four decades of hard work and music earn them that praise, I think. Will I be going to another REO Speedwagon show? I think so, in good time, that is. When I am ready, and with no expectations of treatment special or otherwise. I would go as one who loves their music, and respects them for the fine musicians and men I know them to be.

I still am an avid fan of rock & roll in general. In the wake of all that occurred with REO Speedwagon, I have come to rediscover some of the wonderful music I had ignored before. Bands like Whitesnake, Winger, Poison, Motley Crue, Metallica, The Scorpions, ZZ Top…I could go on and on! These bands had their hey day in the 90’s while REO was struggling, and it’s ironic that I am just now familiarizing myself with their work and really getting into it. Do I want to try getting into a friendship with any of these bands? Absolutely not. Would I like to meet any of them? Sure! Who wouldn’t want to meet someone they admire? I personally would love to meet Kip Winger just so I can ask him about the kind of applications he uses in his home recording studio. But I have no desire to try being friends with him or anyone else in Winger. I would simply be happy enough just to enjoy their music and even learn to play some of it.

Oh, and yes, I still love Kiss. That never really did change, because I see them for who they really are. A group of guys who just play some great ass-kicking music to make hellacious amounts of money. When it comes down to the real deal, a fan is someone who helps them do that, and has a great time doing it. Nothing less, nothing more.