To Johnny

at the bar, a johnny cash song comes on the jukebox.

i raise my glass and say to stacy, "to johnny." the guy at the table next to us overhears and raises his glass too. "to johnny." his table responds, all raising their beers. and the table next to them and the one beside that as well. i quietly propose a toast and the whole bar joins in. all of 'em--the hipsters and the fratkids and the locals and debutantes--all of them raise their glasses to salute the man in black on the eve of his passing.

i'm not sure there's a more distinguished measure of success in the history of man. as my friend rico says, "johnny cash is dead and now the world kicks ass that much less."

and as a bachelor living with two attractive women, i'd like to salute john ritter, too. he wasn't johnny cash, but fifty-four is too young to go.