KIDS THESE DAYS:

Last Saturday night was poker night, one of three such evenings each year. Our group of seven has known each other for at least 35 years, some a little longer.

I mentioned to my friends that I was going to the unveiling of the headstone for Kevin DuBrow, who passed away last November. Kevin, as some of you may know, was the lead singer of the heavy metal band Quiet Riot, a band that reached its peak in the 1980s but that peak was quite high.

Quiet Riot’s album “Metal Health” was the first heavy metal debut album to reach No. 1 on the Billboard pop album charts. The record reached the mark on Nov. 26, 1983, making Quiet Riot the first heavy metal band to have a top five Billboard hit (“Cum on Feel the Noize”) and a No. 1 album in the same week.

On Nov. 25, 2007, one day shy of the 24th anniversary of his success, Kevin was found dead in Las Vegas.

Only two of the other six guys knew Kevin from school, but our impressions were the same: Kevin was a very nice guy and always ahead of his time.

Of the three of us, I was closest to Kevin and I told my friends that even at the age of 11, Kevin knew exactly what he wanted to do and be: Kevin was very focused on becoming a rock star.

I got to the unveiling early and was met by a friendly and polite fellow who was there for the same reason.

“My name is Steve Smith,” I said. “I’m here for Kevin.”

“Me, too,” came the reply. “My name is Frankie Banali.”

Many people just 10 years younger would have recognized Banali’s name. But I did not know him as Quiet Riot’s drummer.

When he revealed this, I spent the next 30 minutes pumping him for information about the avant-garde, very focused and very good friend whose friendship I had for only a couple of years so long ago.

To Banali, I’m sure that I sounded like a reporter for People magazine because I asked everything about Kevin except for his favorite color.

“Kevin was a good eater,” Banali said, and he proceeded to tell me about Kevin’s love of food. Having seen pictures of him not long before he died, I told Banali that he looked like he was in good shape despite his appetite.

“He was,” Banali said.

The 20 or so people then retreated to the Corona del Mar home of Laura Mandell, Kevin’s mother. Before driving away, I introduced myself to Kevin’s brother, Terry, now a plastic surgeon based in Newport Beach.

During the short drive, I could think only about friends. I thought of how amazing it is that seven guys are still playing poker after 34 years and how I still have those friends but lost touch with Kevin so many years ago.

It seemed to me that Kevin was lucky to have Banali in his life. Banali has established a precedent for other bands by refusing to go on after Kevin’s death.

Last January, he issued a statement which read in part, “My friendship, love and respect for Kevin DuBrow as well as my personal love and affection for Kevin’s mother and his family makes it inconceivable for me to ever entertain any ovation to reform or to continue Quiet Riot.”

Even after he died, you see, Banali was still looking out for his friend.

Before I left the luncheon, I told Banali that in the mid-’80s I’d heard Kevin in an interview on the radio and thought several times about calling him.

“I didn’t want him to think I was one of those friends who was crawling out of the woodwork because he was famous,” I said.

Banali then gave me another insight into Kevin. “Kevin was very good at figuring out who was real and who was not. You should have called him.”

Yes, I should have.

That is my regret. But Kevin and I can teach you something today. Perhaps this is a good time to reach out to someone with whom you haven’t had any recent contact and just say “hello.”

It sure beats the alternative.

STEVE SMITH is a Costa Mesa resident and a freelance writer. Send story ideas to [email protected].