"Greetings Joshua --
Here is your horoscope for Thursday, September 25:
Don't get mad, get healthy...."
So, Richard Simmons has apparently taken over horoscope-writing duties at Astrology.com?
Reprinted without permission.
it was either the late 80's or early 90's. i wish i could remember exactly. but at the time, my family lived in lock haven, pennsylvania, while my father had a job in scranton. he would live in scranton for the week and come home on weekends. we entertained the idea of moving to scranton for awhile, and i think the reason we were going there that weekend was to go house hunting. my brother was away at college, so it was just my mother and i riding in the car as my dad drove east on route 80.
there are several rest stops every couple of miles along the interstate. they all look the same in pennsylvania: 70's/80's "modern," brick with exposed wooden rafters and lots of light. you enter from either side into a large lobby that is populated by vending machines and brochures for any and all of the local attractions. the women's restroom is almost always on the left, and the men's room to the right. in between the two doors for each restroom is a water fountain or two.
everybody in the car needed a break, so we pulled into one of the rest stops. we parked on the left side and entered. nothing out of the ordinary.
except, in the lobby, just standing for no apparent reason in front of the water fountains, was a man. in black. towering between two equally intimidating men, he was weathered, grizzled, and imposing as hell yet very... i can't think of the right word. looking at him, there was this weight to him, like he changed the gravity in the room. i was too young to grasp the full significance of what was going on, but i still had an inkling that something pretty cool was happening when my father, first through the door of the rest stop, didn't blink and walked right up to the man to shake his hand with a "how are you, mr. cash? i'm don."
see, i was only allowed to listen to christian music when i was growing up. my well-meaning mother didn't want me to be exposed to a lot of the "crap" that was in secular music (and, looking back on that hair-band era, i'll admit she probably did me a great service). my musical sphere consisted of amy grant and keith green and sandi patti. i knew johnny cash was a legend, and that my truck-driving grandfather spoke reverently of him, but i certainly did not have the appreciation for johnny cash that i do today.
mr. cash also did not blink and shook my father's hand right back. "hello, don." dad introduced me. johnny turned, looked down at me and with a little smile out the corner of his mouth, put out his large, strong hand and shook mine with a "howyou."
dad then introduced mom, who looked sort of smirkingly apprehensive as she politely shook the man's hand and greeted him.
it gets better.
my dad and i went into the men's room, and then i was aware that mr. cash had taken the urinal next to me. then we heard my mom's voice echoing up through the rafters of the rest stop from the women's room. i don't know who exactly she was talking to, but she was laughing hysterically.
"my husband thought that impersonator was actually johnny cash!"
johnny had no reaction. he exited the rest room. my father and i followed soon after to see him and his two associates go out the side door opposite the one we had come in. we waited for my still-giggling mom to come out of the women's room. my father insisted to her that it was really johnny. i could see by the look on her face that mom was starting to doubt herself but she very reasonably said "oh, come ON. what are the chances that johnny cash would be here. at a rest stop. in the middle of pennsylvania."
we decided to go out the doors that the man in black had gone through. when we did, we saw the two big busses parked nearby. on one was painted, inconspicuously and near the rear of the bus, "JC Unit 1" and on the other, "JC Unit 2."
oh.
as the busses sped away, my mom began laughing hysterically again, this time at herself.
johnny cash had so many lifetimes rolled into one, and the stories he told as a result are humbling, inspiring, and entertaining as hell. another lifetime could be spent just learning from his music. what is heartbreaking for us today is the knowledge that another man like him will never be seen.