Thanks to everyone who sent in Rick Hulett memories. They’re all online — it goes without saying I wish I could print every single one.
Rick’s dear friend Julianna Waters wrote an inspiring poem about Rick last summer, after an extensive interview she did when Rick asked her to write his eulogy.
Rick believed his spirit would continue, allowing him to jam with all the rock stars that have passed on, and Waters’ poem reflects Rick’s love for music here and beyond. — Jim Drake
How It Will Be by J. Waters
When death comes to you it will be by invitation: a knock on the door by some familiar faced fan you recognize from last night's gig, or maybe a sweet spotted dog that roams through town ever hungry for a pat.
One of those, or perhaps a whole crowd will come for you, I don't know. But, you will be invited, and you will look back to the world you know, with all its clutter of dates and song lists, all those times you couldn't, wouldn't, take your eyes off your wife, who sat at a back table in one venue or another, talking and watching. Watching you.
You'll look back and all the musicians you ever played with will still be playing, fussing over arrangements, keys and rhythms while your daughter dances her unicorn dance and your son, who so mirrors you, leans irreverent against the bar, beer in hand, laughing.
Friends, people that just love you, people who will always love you, will move and sway together in the night, a huge amorphous dance, a dance that you love too. But, there in front of you, at your door, or bedside, you on stage, or maybe in your kitchen, stands that sweet faced fan, that dog — or angel or cowboy — and in their eyes, something stronger than you, something utterly wild, will conquer you with it's beauty, conquer you so completely that when you look at our world, the world that will love you forever, you will sigh, defeated, and look at death: that dog, or fan or stranger come for you, and say, hell yeah. Let's go.