Jan 27 2010
Johnny and Me
Johnny Cash is the reason I am in Orkney.
It’s a bold statement, I know, and at first glance there is little or no connection between the two.
Johnny died in September 2003; amongst the many obituaries printed in the newspapers, there was one in The Guardian by a young woman whose name, alas, I have forgotten. Unlike the usual obituary style, looking back over a person’s lifetime, she wrote an account of a meeting she had with Johnny, and how it changed her life.
She was interviewing Johnny for a newspaper; he was old and clearly unwell, and whilst not discourteous, he was quite gruff and a bit impatient with her questions about his new album. After an awkward 20 minutes or so, Johnny asked the interviewer if she liked his music, and she confessed a lifelong love of the 1971 album Man in Black: it was her father’s favourite record. He smiled, picked up his guitar, and sang most of the album for her. Abandoning the formal interview format, and beginning to enjoy each other’s company, Johnny asked the journalist if she enjoyed her work. Ashamed, she confessed that whilst she had a job most people would give their right arm for, actually she was very disillusioned with journalism, and that her real heartfelt ambition was to write fiction, possibly a novel.
Johnny Cash stared at her for several long seconds before asking her, in uncompromising Johnny Cash style, what the hell she thought she was doing. If you want it, he told her, you have to go get it. You get one shot at this life, and every minute spent not pursuing your dream is a minute wasted. The resulting article was not only a fitting tribute to Johnny, it was a journalist bidding farewell to her profession; she had handed in her notice and was going to write her novel.
In September 2003 I had come to an impasse myself. We had lived in Edinburgh for 13 years, and the last two years had been difficult for a number of reasons. I wanted to leave my job, but I was terrified of the consequences of abandoning full-time salaried work, with the attendant benefits of holiday pay, pension contributions and all the rest. We had this mad scheme about moving to Orkney, but it seemed a real leap in the dark and we didn’t know if we were brave enough.
I cut out the article about Johnny Cash and stuck it on my wall, in a place where I could see it every day. I looked at the photo of a man who lived life in the raw, and rarely compromised on anything that mattered. In November 2003 I handed in my notice, and in February 2004 we moved to Orkney, a decision that I have not regretted for one single second.
There were many other people who gave us advice, encouragement and inspiration, and I am grateful to all of them. But when folk ask me why I came to the islands, a little voice in my head answers ‘because Johnny Cash told me to.’
16 responses so far
WELL DONE.
Beautiful.
Truely wonderful! I think I will ask Saga, just 18, to read this. And I’m thinking an old salt could ponder the matter, too.
Well, Barney, it can’t do any harm……
Great stuff Mrs Dragon. I hope the need to do a bit of living-earning in Orkney doesn’t interfere too much with the novel writing…and then there’s the blogging…
That’s a great story, SD. I feel inspired to take a leap, seize the moment etc etc, but will probably settle for another cuppa. I have the cat on my knee, after all…
What a great leap of faith you took SD! Lots of people recognize inspiration but only a few act upon it and you have in spades. Just a great story plumb full of your writing aplomb and an answer to a bit of Dragon mystery as well.
I’ve no idea how to send or post anything but words to you here, but the link below will take you to Johnny Cash singing a beautifully simple, stark version of Tom Petty’s song “I Won’t Back Down.” It might go well as a Dragon theme of some sort?
[url]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-niro6p2×4o[/url]
Entirely understandable, Landlady. Cats take priority. And KC you are so right - the whole working for a living drag gets in the way of so many things!
very well put, your braver than me to make the leap though.
Big decisions rest on some very odd reasons. We moved to Coll because the only house we would have considered was for sale. At that time we were demonstrating at about 40 craft fairs and agricultural shows, using fresh timber. Moving to a nearly treeless island hundreds of miles from our established circuit was going to crucify our business. While we were busy buying the house our craft fair organiser was busy deciding he did not need a pole-lathe turner, and a year later Foot and Mouth caused the cancellation of most of the rest of our shows. If something feels like it is the right thing to do, then it nearly always is.
My pet hate (well, one of them) is the tourist who thinks I am so lucky to live here (I know this). They would love to live here too, but they can’t because of their work. Don’t they realise life is for living, not making a living, and certainly not for enduring for 49 weeks a year just to get three weeks of what they think they really want. I love my job. I loved my last job. I wouldn’t go to work if I wasn’t looking forward to it, but I would never have done these jobs if I had stayed on the mainland. Too much stereo-typying would have robbed me of some wonderful experiences.
Pole-lathe turner - what a lovely name! Conjures up images of long-lost and forgotten trades. But a Google quickly showed how wrong that perspective is. “Greenwood”, etc.,etc. It all sounds very down-to-earth and very satisfying. In view of your comment on the lack of trees on Coll, may we assume that your family makes its income by other means these days, or in addition to all the other overheads that burdens the back of the dedicated pole-lathe turner, have you also to bear the cost of importing greenwood stock? “Lang may yer pole lathe”!
Nic - yes, I can identify with the ‘Oh, you’re so lucky!’ brigade. I wrote a big long rant in this comment, and then I deleted it!
I am one of the “You’re so lucky” brigade, I suppose. It’s just not feasible for some people to move to one of these lovely places, for many different reasons. And it means that everyone in the family has to be of the same mind, too, and that doesn’t always happen!
It’s got nothing to do with luck. Either you do it or you don’t and Di’el tak the hin’maist! Good on you that did!
Did you listen to the prog on Radio 4 yesterday about Johnny Cash?
Nooooo! I forgot! Aaargh! Must resort to iPlayer. My father is from the same part of Fife as the Cash family! Thanks for reminding me!