In a meeting, I am listening to a man speak, one of those older men who have developed a lisp that makes it difficult to follow. Combine this with oversized, heavy black frame glasses, greying hair, lined face, and extremely slow manner of moving, and I can't help but wonder if he can even remember his own elementary school experience.
He finishes speaking, takes his glasses off, and leans back in his chair. His eyes are closed as his head seems to do the "about to nap" dance. It is as if his wind-up spring has wound down, his work has finished, and he can go back to the rest we disturbed him from. He reminds me of the Johnny Cash story I heard many years ago -- exactly how I pictured it really.
The Johnny Cash Story
At one of those huge country music concerts, like the Merritt Mountain Music Fest, where you have hundreds of artists from all over performing, someone ran into Johnny Cash. He was being driven around backstge in a golf cart, dazing in and out of awareness. Everytime the cart stopped, Johhny would jolt upright, thrust out his hand, and say "Hey, I'm Johnny Cash. Nice to meet you," regardless of whether anyone was standing in front of him.
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