Beating the Devil

A few years ago during a presentation I included a picture of Kris Kristofferson in one of my slides, presumably quoting from "Me and Bobby McGee" about "freedom":

Freedom's just another word, for nothin' left to lose . . .

I asked the crowd who it was in the picture, and there was silence. I pressed, and finally someone said "John Mellencamp?" I briefly considered calling it a day, not just for that presentation, but for my entire career.

Thankfully, (perhaps), I've kept ranting and raving about birds and walks and muddling through grief and expressing gratitude and simple acts of kindness. Why? Mostly because despite all the signs to the contrary, there are some people who want to know about these things.

If this were on my tombstone, I couldn't be happier:

And I guess I’ll die explaining how; The things that they complain about; Are things they could be changing

Kris Kristofferson lived an extraordinary life: athlete, Rhodes Scholar at Oxford (where he roomed with my friend Bernie Dunlap), soldier, songwriter, actor.

But it's the songwriting and the way he lived his values and passion that stick with me. No commitment I've made has led me to sweep floors in a Nashville recording studio to work my way into music (particularly after being disowned by my family for taking a job teaching English at West Point). Nor would I land a helicopter in Johnny Cash's front yard.

And I know I don't speak uncomfortable truths as bluntly and as openly as Kristofferson did. But I sure am trying. He paid a price for his views, but he did not care in the least.

His observations on the human condition ring true in these times:

'Cause everybody's gotta have somebody to look down on; Prove they can be better than at any time they please; Someone doin' somethin' dirty, decent folks can frown on; But you can't find nobody else, then help yourself to me . . .

The strongest memory of Kristofferson I'll carry and carry forward is the simple but courageous act of kindness he showed to Sinead O'Connor while O'Connor was being booed relentlessly onstage in 1992.

Kristofferson was told to get her off the stage, but instead he walked out and whispered in O'Connor's ear:

Don't let the bastards get you down.

'Nuff said. As far as I'm concerned you soundly beat the Devil. Rest in Peace!

Currently Wearing My Cleanest Dirty Shirt . . .