Me and Bobby McGee


                                                                                Lisa Kristofferson photo

Me: How you feelin' these days?

Him: Old.

I got a visit Friday from old friends, Kris Kristofferson, his wife Lisa and their son Jody.

They were in Arizona for a Valentine's Day wedding in Scottsdale, and for visits with their Salvadoran daughters in Tucson. Kris and Lisa raised a bunch of kids out in Hana, and now have full schedules catching up with them all over the Mainland.

Jody, their second oldest, was a champion wrestler at Hana High before turning professional for years. A gentle giant, he's a good guy to have around for all sorts of reasons. Some of Kris's fans are in their twilight years now, but Jody's still got the ink tattoo on his back from the little old lady who attacked him with a ballpoint pen, trying to get at her idol.

At 86 the man himself still has the aura. Superstardom is a heavy cape to wear, especially for a triple threat in several occupations: Singer. Country Music Hall of Fame songwriter. Movie star. 

He possesses the single trait I have observed in the handful of undeniably great artists I have been honored to interview through the years:

Humility. 

Ever since first going to work for The Maui News in 1991, one of the perks of my beat was covering Kris. Concert reviews in Hana and the MACC. Interviews. He introduced “When the Mountain Calls,” a documentary film I scripted for Tom Vendetti that went on to be nominated for an Emmy.

Whenever I would write something about him in the paper, I would hear from Lisa, thanking me and telling me how much Kris appreciated it. She was the brains in the outfit – I think he would acknowledge that – managing all those details in his career at the same time she was being a supermom to the kids and an active member of the Hana community. Maybe she was just being gracious, but it felt more real than that. Way more real.

The reason for the visit Friday was to give them a copy of my book, “Chain Link Zen,” a memoir of my misadventures since leaving Maui four years ago. Kris and Lisa make small but crucial appearances in its pages, helping me, as Kris once wrote, make it through the night. They also contributed a blurb for the back cover.

When we realized we were all in Tucson, we quickly arranged to meet at the DeGrazia Gallery in the city's foothills. It's the former home and studio of artist Ted Grazia, a modestly magnificent array of adobe structures the artist built in the shadow of the Catalina Mountains, their rugged ravines and undulating ridges like the contours of sleeping monsters under the cobalt blue skies.

Lisa took a picture of me handing Kris a copy of the book. I have a slightly goofy smile on my face, uncomfortable to find myself in the starring role. One of the book's themes is about heroism, how it's the flip side of fear, and what happens when you're forced to find it inside yourself.

I'm a stranger to this territory, a newcomer. Kris is the real thing, having learned it over the decades, rising from the lowest lows to heights beyond most of our imaginings, over and over again. And finding time in between to write songs, including the one Johnny Cash called the best ever:

And the daylight was heavy with thunder
With the smell of the rain on the wind
Ain't it just like a human?
Here comes that rainbow again.

After four years serving what someone once called a life sentence in the dungeon of my self, the Kristoffersons brought me a rainbow. And more lessons in how good it can feel to be just like a human.

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/.../chain.../1142982697...








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