Walk the Line Fathers

/ Survival / Family /
@ K. c. 2005

Current film success Walk the Line presents Johnny Cash’s relationship with his father. Johnny’s brother had died ripped up by a power saw. Father cried out to God: why hadn’t he taken the other son? the no good son? That is, why hadn’t God taken no good Johnny Cash?

Johnny’s making money, lots of money, paling around with Elvis, with Jerry Lee, June and the Carters … Dad isn’t impressed. Johnny has never disputed Dad’s judgment, his preference for the dead son. Tears the hell out of Johnny. We benefit: through the pain in the music.

Richard Burton told the story of going back home. Dad’s probably at the pub. Sure enough, there he is, reading the paper. Burton gets them a couple of fresh pints. Dad still reads the paper, ignoring him.

Finally Dad looks up. “It says in the paper that you made $100,000 last year.” “That’s right,” agrees Burton, though actually he’d made $150,000. Dad smacks his brew around with his lips: “For what?” he demands.

For what indeed? Richard was Richard. His father knew what he looked like, what he sounded like. What had he done? (Besides having the most stunning brass voice ever recorded on a sound track? And being more than a little bit OK at the acting? And being very distinctive-male-looking?)

Dad didn’t get it. “All” the Welsh are musical: so what if Richard’s voice, manner, was music to the eye and ear? So, he acted in Shakespeare. Dad obviously didn’t know about or care a fig for Shakespeare.

2015 06 15 Modules like this, several thousand of them, were casual by-kill when the US censored my emails to NYU in 2007. The court censored one folder of one domain, but all six domains toppled like dominos, regardless of content. (And regardless of the whole enterprise being unconstitutional as well as anti-human, godless …

Huh, now I’ve forgotten what I was going to add: consequence of age: castrate the stud when he’s twenty and he still won’t be able to breed when he’s seventy-six. Oh well, the place is still here.


About pk

Seems to me that some modicum of honesty is requisite to intelligence. If we look in the mirror and see not kleptocrats but Christians, we’re still in the same old trouble.
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