All the Best

John Prine is in heaven now. He died yesterday after some years of bobbing and weaving with cancer. He was 73. If we are to believe one of his songs, and there is absolutely no reason not to believe any of his songs, he is already having a grand time.

When I get to heaven, I’m gonna shake God’s hand

Thank him for all the blessings that one man can stand

Then I’m gonna get a guitar and start a rock-n-roll band

Check into a sweet hotel; ain’t the afterlife grand?

He was easy goin’. The kind of easy goin’ that makes you drop that last g. Although he will be impossibly hard to forget, John Prine’s music was easy, easy to listen to, easy to understand. The melody just rolled out there every time. No sudden detours, just a soft, dusty meander down the road. He observed his life and his feelings and noted what he saw in simple little songs.

And then I’m gonna get a cocktail: vodka and ginger ale

Yeah I’m gonna smoke a cigarette that’s nine miles long

I’m gonna kiss that pretty girl on the tilt-a-whirl

‘cause this old man is goin’ to town

He had a one of-a-kind plain voice that cancer and age made raspier and, to my ears, better. He had serious pre-existing before COVID-19 got him. But up until he entered this hospital he had been touring, performing, and recording. Back in 1998 doctors removed a tumor and parts of his neck, and Prine thought he would never sing again much less talk. But he fooled everybody including himself.

Prine’s most well-known work came early in his career. He grew up around Chicago in a country music loving family that first lived in Kentucky. When he graduated from high school he went into the Army. When he got out of the Army he became a mailman. “I always likened the mail route to a library with no books.” When he walked his route, he “passed the time each day makin’ up songs.” His songs were covered by many singers, but he himself never had a so-called hit. He also sang duets with many singers, both male and female and won Grammy Awards for these collaborations. “In Spite of Ourselves,” a song he wrote and sang with Iris Dement is a favorite of mine. But there are dozens to choose from. Some are sad, some are angry, some funny in a slippery sort of way. His sense of humor helped him through life, which is what laughs are supposed to do. When he was asked about his guitar playing, which was unusual because he picked with his thumb and only one finger instead of two, he said, “If you make the same mistake in the same way every time, they call it your style.”

In 2019 he put out his19th and what was to be his last album: “Tree of Forgiveness,” which was nominated for a Grammy as best Americana album, and he was inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame.

John Prine was a rascal. He always had a twinkle in his eye like he knew something secret and wacky and could hardly wait to share it with you. He wrote quickly in the early years. “Sometimes, the best ones come together at the exact same time, and it takes about as long to write it as it does to sing it.” He told American poet Ted Kooser, “They come along like a dream or something, and you just got to hurry up and respond to it, because if you mess around, the song is liable to pass you by.”

The final song on his final album was “When I Get to Heaven.” Do yourself an earthly favor. Go online and check it out on Austin City Limits.