to Tennessee and Johnny Cash’s grave. Nothing morbid but just a chance to pay a little respect.It’s a good thing.
Elvis is okay and I suspect Graceland is nice but if I go there I’ll just think of the King, face down, pants around the ankles, in the bathroom upstairs. I can’t do that because I’d just get mad at all of his “friends” who rode the gravy train and did nothing to stop the fall. I can’t do that because it just seems wrong.
Johnny was headed that way too but he had different friends and the chance to make up for lost time. His grave is sad but not tragic, out in the open with no fee for admission. I’ll stand there and say a few kind words, get in the car, pop in his CD and float all the way back to the hotel.
It just seems like the right thing to do.
The Beautiful Path 