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A Tough Week…
All the fallout from Hurricane Helene, some of which has gravely affected those I love.
Followed by the death of Maggie Smith. And now, that of Kris Kristofferson.
The last is one of the very few great American poets of the twentieth century:
See him wasted on the sidewalk in his jacket and his jeansWearin’ yesterday’s misfortunes like a smileOnce he had a future full of money love and dreamsWhich he spent like they was going out of styleAnd he keeps right on a changin’ for the better or the worseAnd searchin’ for a shrine he’s never foundNever knowin’ if believin’ is a blessin’ or a curseOr if the going up is worth to coming down
He’s a poet he’s a picker he’s a prophet he’s a pusherHe’s a pilgrim and a preacher and a problem when he’s stonedHe’s a walking contradiction partly truth and partly fictionTaking every wrong direction on his lonely way back home
He has tasted good and evil in your bedrooms and your barsAnd he’s traded in tomorrow for todayRunnin’ from his devils Lord and reachin’ for the starsAnd losin’ all he loved along the wayBut if this world keeps right on turning for the better or the worseAll he ever gets is older and aroundFrom the rocking of the cradle to the rolling of the hearseThe going up was worth the coming down
He’s a poet he’s a picker…
There’s lotta wrong directions on that lonely way back home
Boy, howdy.
Rest in Peace
Published in General
I read some time ago that Kristofferson, trying to get in the business, “borrowed” a military helicopter and landed it in Johnny Cash’s front lawn to get His attention.
I’ve not heard that. Perhaps it’s true. I do know that Kristofferson was a US Army helicopter pilot who also successfully completed the Army Ranger course. So if he did decide to show up on Johnny Cash’s lawn in a “bird,” at least he came by the wherewithal to do so honestly.
Prior to that, he’d been awarded a Rhodes Scholarship, and spent a couple of years studying at Oxford, graduating with a Baccalaureate degree in English Literature, with a concentration in the poetry of William Blake.
Somehow, methinks there’s another post in there somewhere. Who knows?
Great writer. Great loss. And a really interesting guy.
I didn’t know Kristofferson had died. He was one of the greats.
I think Kris Kristofferson’s last live performance might have been in April of 2023 at Willie Nelson’s 90th birthday celebration, when he was lovingly assisted by Roseanne Cash in a performance of “Loving Her Was Easier (Than Anything I’ll Ever Do Again).” I cried the first time I watched it:
Willie plugs on, although frailer than ever at the age of 91. I last saw him in August of 2023, when he and I survived tornadic winds and storms while the show went on.
Putting Blade on the box. Kris killed it as Whistler.
Always in threes, they say.
Wesley Snipes and K.K. created indelible characters. The three Blade movies outshone any of the genre we have seen since. I always hoped Snipes would star in a good treatment of Bass Reeves, a true American hero.
In the Ken Burns PBS documentary on country music, Kristofferson recounts reading a letter from his mother after he left the Army and moved to Nashville. In the letter, his mother told him that he was a disgrace to the family name and that he was dead to her. Kristofferson read the letter to Johnny Cash and when he finished Cash looked at him and said, “Nothing like a letter from home, is there kid?”
I’ve always wondered if Kristofferson and his mother ever reconcilled.
Heh. I can’t pretend that I’ve ever experiences all those moments at once (or many of the others described in the lyrics), but, Lord, I get it. (The bit about finding one’s “cleanest dirty shirt” is especially evocative, in both an olfactory and an “freshness” sort of way when you’ve never been in the least interested in life as a clothes horse, and when you live as organic a life as I do, from the sheep, to the barn, to the chickens, to the dogs….)
The Telegraph today has no fewer than five articles about Kristofferson, including one of its inimitable obituaries.
From another of them:
Like his literary hero, Kris Kristofferson was a true original who simply had to share his genius with the rest of us. He’ll be missed.
“The heart is all that matters in the end.”
(Another piece I read today described Kristofferson’s always less-than-agile singing voice as “three notes and the truth.” Yep.)
I don’t think that’s entirely clear, although it’s usually reported that there wasn’t a reconciliation. So sad. From the Telegraph obituary today:
The obituary also mentions the story that Kristofferson brazenly landed a helicopter in Johnny Cash’s backyard and presented Cash with some of his songs in a effort to jumpstart his career. If so, apparently it worked!
Hmmm. I could see that his family might be a bit miffed over his career change but that’s carrying it too far. It’s not like he climbed up on a tower and started shooting people.
Thanks for the update.
Welcome. PS: I very much enjoyed the Ken Burns Country Music documentary, and highly recommend it.
Best entrance in an action movie.