perfidy

A day late and a dollar short, I want to remark on the passing of one of the greats. June Carter Cash died last Friday after complications from heart surgery. I always though that Johnny would go first, what with his Parkinson's and related infirmities, not to mention that pills-and-booze phase he had back in the 50's and 60's. I always think the good ones will last forever. Guess I was wrong. We'll all miss you, June. 

I need a minute. *choking up* 

I swear to God, I don't know what I'll do when Johnny Cash and George Jones pass on. I'll be a wreck. I loved those two before I even knew how to talk, and their music has been a constant companion in my life. Some of my first memories involve a Fisher-Price record player, an LP that contained "There Ain't No Good Chain Gang" and "I Would Like To See You Again" by JC, and another one that had the Chet Atkins track, "Cloudy And Cool." I listened to those songs for hours. My dad's favorite song in those days was "He Stopped Loving Her Today" so that would place me at about four years old. The themes and lessons of country music were present during my formative years, and every so often something happens to remind me of that fact. It's no mistake that, on the worst day of the worst year of my life (thank you, New York City!), I got drunk on bourbon and listened to Johnny Cash. 

More than religion, more than community, more than anything else days besides my family, those songs were the bedrock pleasures and signposts of my four-year-old life, and they retain power over me. The United Methodist church could fall into a hole and I wouldn't care. The great state of Ohio could disappear, leaving Lake Erie the largest of the Great Lakes and making Wheeling a port city, and I wouldn't care, except to be happy for the citizens of Wheeling. But every time George Jones wraps his car around a tree, and every time Johnny Cash goes back in the hospital because his traitor body is wasting away, my heart sinks as I fear the worst. It's like fearing for an infinitely wise yet mortally flawed twin brother. 

In the sleeve of the "Love" disc from his box set "Murder/God/Love" is a picture of June in Johnny's arms. It's a beautiful photo which captures utterly the deep love they had. But what the picture can only show, the music proved. Johnny Cash has written thousands of beautiful words, and a score of beautiful songs, about his wife. June wrote "Ring of Fire" about him. Not even Shakespeare has been so eloquent about the daily pleasures and hurts of love. I and millions of others grieve with him today. We'll miss you, June.