Insofar as my own grandfathers, it's sad to have to say that I never knew them. The fact is that I never met either one of them.

The one on my father's side was dead by the time my father was 10 years old, and I have no idea what he looked like because there were never any family photos of him. A number of years ago my wife and I did drive to the town where he was buried, and succeeded in finding his grave. I had to rely on my uncle to tell me where he was buried. Strangely, my father only mentioned him once. When we located his grave we were impressed by the grave marker. It must have cost a pretty penny. My father had 12 siblings, and they lost their father to tuberculosis and had to sell the farm. Imagine being one of 13 children and suddenly having no father.

The one on my mother's side lived too far away, and died when I was around 12 years old. Fortunately, I do have a single photo of him.

So I really never ever knew what it was like to have a grandpa. I can only imagine what it would have been like.

But the subject of my topic is about Johnny's grandchildren. I can't imagine what it would be like growing up and being able to say: "Johnny Cash was my grandpa."

Can you imagine yourself in THAT position? LOL!

I welcome any comments that you might care to make.

.

This message has been edited. Last edited by: Friday,

You make a good point. My perspective on this revolves a great deal around what I've heard Johnny's daughter Kathy say and comments I've read pertaining to Rosanne. To the world he was Johnny Cash, but to them, he was "Dad."

G'day Friday!!

James 4:14 says, "What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes."

Isaiah 40:6-7 (also quoted in 1 Peter 1:24) says “All men are like grass, and all their glory is like the flowers of the field. The grass withers and the flowers fall ..."

On Saturday night, I drove a bus for a local charity as they conducted an historical tour around out area. I saw a young man looking at a gravestone alone. After a time, I walked over and stood nearby, wondering if I could be of any service to him but not wanting to intrude. Maybe this was a grave of a loved one.

He turned and said to me, "If I ever have any kids, what will they really know about me when I'm gone?"

"Ah!" I thought, "Perhaps this young man is having an epiphany! Perhaps he has had his first glimpse of his own mortality."

I stepped over and shared with him a few facts about a bloke called Alfred Edney Chuter. This is every fact I know of that man.

Alfred Edney Chuter was born and lived in London. I don't know his birthday nor his address.

In 1911, he migrated with his wife, his children and his brand new son-in-law, Arthur Brown, to the other side of the world and settled in Australia.

Alfred Edney Chuter was a builder. In fact, he built the church that stood at the corner of the street where I spent my childhood and it was in that church that my mother and father were married and eventually had their funeral services.

Alfred was an alderman on the local council and, as a result has two streets, Alfred Street and Chuter Avenue, named after him.

Alfred Edney Chuter wore a 9 carat gold signet ring with a shield on which his initials, AEC, were intertwined. I know this because that ring is in the top drawer of my bedside table. You see, Alfred Edney Chuter was my maternal grandmother's father; my great-grandfather, and she gave me the ring when I was 18.

And that's it. That's all I know about the man ...

The truth is, Friday, that we are like the morning mist.

What will my kids remember of me? What about my grandchildren?

I have a question I trot out at times when I am struggling or perplexed: "Will this matter in a hundred years?" The answer is usually simple. If I am wondering what sort of carpet to buy or whether to have a new kitchen installed, it won't matter in a hundred years! But if I'm wondering whether to reach out to someone in need or whether to stand up against an injustice being done to someone who is relatively powerless, then I reckon it will matter! It'll matter here as the ripples or my choices spread across the surface of the waters of life and it'll matter in heaven!

Surely life is more than being born, growing up, getting an education and a job, gathering a bunch of possessions and maybe a family and then carking it!!

In answer to your question, Friday, I reckon that, if John had been my grandfather, I'd be pretty much the same as I am now. I'd have warm, fond feelings for him. I'd have respect for him as one who has completed more laps of the sun than I have and who has hopefully acquired more wisdom which he might pass on. Of course, if John was my grandfather, I'd hopefully have had some pretty fantastic guitar pulls with him, I'd have a fair bit of proprietorial pride in my grandfather's work which, unlike that of Alfred Edney Chuter or myself, will be more noticeable than the average bloke's life work, and I reckon there'd be a fair chance that my family would be living in a pretty privileged financial situation as a consequence of John's immense talent and incredibly strong work ethic.

In Hugh Waddell's wonderful book, "I Still Miss Someone", which is full of tributes to and reminiscences about John, his grandson, Dustin Tittle wrote:

"But while my grandfather is both great in soul and great in life experience, he is also shrouded in mystery to me. I didn't know my grandfather very well until recently. He was always touring and traveling until he officially retired 1996. This lack of relationship has cast him as a half-man, half-mythical creature.

"I never knew he liked Roman history as I did until I told him I was in Latin class. After I told him about my taking Latin, he took me to the office in his bedroom and gave me a book written by Josephus. Since he has retired, I have grown to know Grandpa John more as a grandfather and less as an American icon, which is how I viewed him when I was 10 years old and younger. Rude, ignorant people ask me all the time, 'What does your grandpa give you for Christmas? He's rich, isn't he?'

"Out of everything he's ever given me, the greatest gift is the newly established relationship which I will cherish long after he is gone; the American icon persona will fade - people will forget Johnny Cash - I will never forget my Grandpa John."

Now, that will matter in a hundred years!

Good thread, Friday! Good conversation starter. Thanks, mate.

Two or three generations from now, my family will remember practically nothing of me. If I'm fortunate, they might recall, "Hey! He was a teacher who seemed to really care and, by all accounts he was a pretty good bloke whose word and handshake were his bond and as good as any written contract. He seems to have known the value of loyalty and integrity and he seems to have understood that the important thing was relationship. And he always had a Johnny Cash story or song for every flippin' occasion!" LOL!

For me with regard to immortality? Jesus!

This message has been edited. Last edited by: Grahame Edwards,

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They probably will try to step out of a huge shadow. If they stay glued to that giant, they will never be free.

What some great input, from all three of you!!!

Grahame, those scripture texts that you quoted are so descriptive of how transient our lives are. I've kept those texts in front of me for many years, and I'm reminded of how true they are each morning when I read the obituary columns. This also reminds me of the lyrics to the song "Hurt" that Johnny recorded: "Everyone I know goes away in the end." Of course long before Johnny sang those lyrics he knew that the same thing would happen to him, just as it finally did. But he also knew what to pin his hopes on, and it wasn't his riches. And I'm fairly certain that's one thing that his children and grandchildren appreciate about him. I really appreciate you not being shy about your spirituality. Johnny certainly didn't keep his spirituality a secret either.

Great comments everyone. Keep 'em coming.

.

This message has been edited. Last edited by: Friday,

Perhaps what it all boils-down-to is that we are no more than the memories we leave behind. I remember my grandparents very well and the memories are warm and caring. However, once I'm gone, who still alive will know who Henry Leone, Lillian Leone, Lonnie Garrett, and Clara Garrett truly were? Maybe a couple other folks?..and when they're gone....no one. .......This is very interesting to me. I spend alot of time thinking about where we go after this, etc. Alot of folks believe we go somewhere, but no one truly knows. That's merely a fact. Not trying to debate religious beliefs. Just talking about what we do know: we know that we don't know.