While We're Remembering
The amazing Johnny Cash died three years ago today. He's one of my heroes and has been since... now that I think about it, he's been one of my heroes as long as I've been alive.
I know, I know. It's easy to love the guy. He transcended genres. He's a rock and country legend.
But he also influenced me as a writer. I always approached fiction the way I imagined Johnny Cash and Kris Kristofferson and Bruce Springsteen approached writing lyrics. I still do. I don't know if my imagination comports with reality, but I digress.
I was in New Orleans at a conference with a client the day Johnny Cash died. By the time I heard the news, I was in the bar at my hotel with a bunch of Marine combat veterans on their annual reunion. (The spectacular National D-Day Museum is in New Orleans, and those vets, who'd served in conflicts from World War II through the current fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan, were all staying at my hotel.)
I'd been chatting with these guys off and on for a couple of days, and they affectionately (some, not so affectionately) called me the fucking liberal from Boston.
When one of the not so affectionate ones learned I was sad that Johnny Cash had died, he said, "What does a fucking liberal from Boston know about Johnny Cash anyway?"
I stood up and sang Folsom Prison Blues. I didn't buy another drink for the rest of my stay. The not so affectionate guy from Alabama bought my next three rounds.
Do you have any memories of Johnny Cash? Share them in the comments section if you feel like it.
On a happier note, the National Holiday known as Bruce Springsteen's Birthday is almost here. I'll be posting a bunch as September 23 approaches.
Adam
I know, I know. It's easy to love the guy. He transcended genres. He's a rock and country legend.
But he also influenced me as a writer. I always approached fiction the way I imagined Johnny Cash and Kris Kristofferson and Bruce Springsteen approached writing lyrics. I still do. I don't know if my imagination comports with reality, but I digress.
I was in New Orleans at a conference with a client the day Johnny Cash died. By the time I heard the news, I was in the bar at my hotel with a bunch of Marine combat veterans on their annual reunion. (The spectacular National D-Day Museum is in New Orleans, and those vets, who'd served in conflicts from World War II through the current fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan, were all staying at my hotel.)
I'd been chatting with these guys off and on for a couple of days, and they affectionately (some, not so affectionately) called me the fucking liberal from Boston.
When one of the not so affectionate ones learned I was sad that Johnny Cash had died, he said, "What does a fucking liberal from Boston know about Johnny Cash anyway?"
I stood up and sang Folsom Prison Blues. I didn't buy another drink for the rest of my stay. The not so affectionate guy from Alabama bought my next three rounds.
Do you have any memories of Johnny Cash? Share them in the comments section if you feel like it.
On a happier note, the National Holiday known as Bruce Springsteen's Birthday is almost here. I'll be posting a bunch as September 23 approaches.
Adam
Labels: Bruce Springsteen, Holidays, Johnny Cash, Kris Kristofferson
posted by Adam Hurtubise at 6:17 PM
2 Comments:
Well done Adam,
Why would a 'fucking liberal' NOT like Johnny Cash?
From What is Truth? (1970)
A little boy of three sittin' on the floor
Looked up and said, " Daddy, what is war?"
"Son that's when people fight and die."
The little boy of three says,"Daddy, why?"
A young man of seventeen in Sunday school
Is being taught the golden rule
By the time another years gone around
It may be his turn to lay his own life down!
Can you blame the voice of youth for asking:
"What is truth?"
Great post, Greg.
Thanks for dropping by.
Adam
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