This morning, with her, having coffee.
Johnny Cash's description of paradise will leave you longing for something deeper.
Johnny Cash was once asked for his definition of paradise.
To which he responded…
“This morning, with her, having coffee.”
He was referring to the love of his life, June Carter Cash, the five-time Grammy Award-winning singer-songwriter.
Johnny asked June to marry him in front of 7,000 people. They were performing a sold-out show in London, Ontario.
After performing one of their hit songs Jackson, Johnny stopped the show, leaned into the microphone and asked…
“Will you marry me?”
June would later joke she had wished he had gotten down on one knee.
I don’t want to paint the wrong picture, though.
Johnny and June’s marriage was far from a fairytale. It was tumultuous. It was riddled with addiction. It was ripe with infidelity.
Yet, despite the turmoil, they endured.
In a 1997 interview with Larry King, Johnny reflected on his and June’s marriage. He believed their endurance was a by-product of their unconditional love for one another…
"There's unconditional love there. You hear that phrase a lot, but it's real with me and her. She loves me in spite of everything, in spite of myself.”
One of the many difficulties in writing about artistic legends is that the lines between fact and fiction often becomes blurred.
In saying that, I’m going to share commentary from Johnny on the topic of love stories. It gets recited constantly. I’ve searched and I’ve searched. I can’t seem to trace its origin. However, the romantic in me wants so badly for it to be true…
“You see, to me, the most romantic, beautiful love stories ever were the ones where two people meet, fall in love, and then fifty, sixty years later one of them dies and then a few days after that the other one dies because they just can’t bear to live without each other.”
I can’t find the source. So, let’s call it fiction.
But, what we know for fact is that June passed away on May 15, 2003.
Johnny made it a little longer than the love stories he imagined
He died four months later on September 12, 2003.
By Cole Schafer.
Synchronicity is everywhere we’re not looking.
Yesterday, a few hours before this post that I didn’t know about or even know to look for, I spilled a cup of water on the table that’s the catch-all of the media room.
Among the dozen or so items that had to be moved to wipe up the mess was my dog-eared copy of “After Her”. No idea how long it’s been since I read it, but I remembered it moved me and I wanted to re-visit the thoughts.
Now it’s Sunday morning, and without warning, January Black’s alter ego appears in my substack feed.
You have my attention. 💥