The music of Johnny Cash has soul. Authentic feeling. You sense the man has seen some shit. Life at its nadir and peak.
For my birthday last November I requested tickets to a "jukebox musical" of Johnny's songs. We attended the show last night at a theater in Northport. The musicians were talented, their performance was glorious. It was like sitting in front of a warm hearth to escape Winter's cold.
The occasion warranted breaking out one of my favorite shirts. I bought this beauty thirty years ago when visiting Boston. Returning to a city I'd spent three years in for law school (1979-1982) I enjoyed being there again. This time I had money in my pockets; as a student I was dirt-poor and frequently ate falafel from King David's food truck.
On this trip I walked down Boylston Street, Boston's upscale shopping Mecca. I spotted a boutique with a catchy name: "Rock 'n Roll Cowboy." I took a look inside. The store had chic clothes with motifs I'd never encountered before. I noticed this classic country-style shirt and fell in love. But... it was expensive. Obscenely so.
After debating the voice of my immigrant-parents (in my head), I took a plunge and pulled out my wallet. In retrospect, that was the right choice. The shirt is made of high-quality material, is embroidered not printed, has real pearl buttons and appears brand-new after three decades of wear. When a thing can become your treasure for a lifetime, it deserves respect regardless of cost.
I hear the train a comin'
It's rolling round the bend
And I ain't seen the sunshine since I don't know when
I'm stuck in Folsom prison, and time keeps draggin' on
But that train keeps a rollin' on down to San Antone.
When I was just a baby my mama told me "Son,
Always be a good boy, don't ever play with guns"
But I shot a man in Reno just to watch him die
When I hear that whistle blowing, I hang my head and cry.
I bet there's rich folks eating in a fancy dining car
They're probably drinkin' coffee and smoking big cigars
Well I know I had it coming, I know I can't be free
But those people keep a movin'
And that's what tortures me.
Well if they freed me from this prison
If that railroad train was mine
I bet I'd move it on a little farther down the line
Far from Folsom prison, that's where I want to stay
And I'd let that lonesome whistle blow my blues away.
