"Do not fear death so much, but rather the inadequate life." -Bertolt Brecht

I am on a television news fast, but that's not to say I don't know what's happening beyond my cabin walls. I only listen to music and NPR while in the car, see bites from AOL or Yahoo! when I get online, and read the LA Times in hardcopy and the e-New York Times.

This morning, two Yahoo! headlines caught my eye: the deaths of Johnny Cash (not unexpected, but sad nevertheless) and John Ritter (what? how can that be?). Two on the same day, after the loss earlier in the week of Warren Zevon. There's our three, I morbidly thought. And immediately heard in my mind Cash's tremulous baritone, "...because you're mine/I walk the line." In fact, it won't leave my head. That, and snippets of his deeply affecting version of "Sunday Morning Coming Down", which I happen to know is friend Michael's favorite rendition of the Kristofferson song. VH-1 has already run -- and will likely air it a few times more in the next days -- his remarkable video, "Hurt", featuring clips from past music and film performances, visually punctuating such mournful lyrics as, "Everyone I know goes away in the end." You want to enfold in your arms this older and wiser Johnny; but with his darling June looking on, you know he's receiving plenty of comfort. I like to think her beautiful soul greeted his early this morning...

In his last Larry King interview (a clip ran on CNN earlier), King asked Johnny if he was angry at God for his various conditions. Johnny kinda smiled and humbly replied, no, "I'd really duck if I shook my fist at Him." My attraction to, and affection for, Cash nestles right there in that statement.

Then, a memory from July 16, 1998 (any close and longtime friend will tell you I have the brain pan of a pachyderm when it comes to dates and events): I was hanging at the Pasadena Ritz Carlton with a close CBS associate -- we had attended two days of CBS Summer Press Tour, a maiden outing for both of us, and were enjoying the lavish party at which personalities and producers mingle with press to promote a new season of programming (any close and longtime friend will tell you I adore alliteration).

My associate and I had partaken of the plentiful feast, had dutifully and delightedly met with various luminaries (Jerry Stiller leaps most clearly to mind; my friend and I were both so excited to chat with George Costanza's father), curled up on a couch for a long, revealing conversation, and shared a faux Cuban cigar (he waxed eloquent about its missing virtues).

We suddenly realized it had gotten late, close to midnight, and my friend walked with pre-cellular me to the public telephones so I could call my spouse. As we reached the elegant phone booths, awash in the buzz of the highly charged event, we were approached by the smiling face of John Ritter, who was on his way to the men's room, and was similarly high on the evening's energy. His cute romantic comedy, a 2-hour movie for us titled "Chance of a Lifetime", with Katey Sagal (his co-star in "8 Rules...") had aired to good numbers earlier in the year, and he'd recently shot the firefighter-sees-a-miracle drama "Holy Joe". We'd just seen the roughcut, and complimented his fine performance, talked about the contrast between that role and his appearance in 1996's dark CBS telefilm "Unforgivable", about the press, the party, and the life. He was every bit as charming as you know Jack Tripper to be...but warmer and sweeter, as you'd hope John Ritter would be. He wished us a good evening and a great season, and we parted company.

Ritter put a perfect cap on our first press tour experience; my friend and I referenced that memorable evening many times in the following years, and we always recalled the encounter with John as a highlight. In fact, the next year, John starred in my friend's second TV movie for CBS, "Lethal Vows", offering a cool, diabolic portrayal of a man slowly poisoning his wife (Marg Helgenberger)...the dailies were great fun to screen, especially when he took his character a little over the top, just for sport! On that set, he was his usual well-prepared, professional self, a good-humored and generous actor...and a kind soul.

As far as I can see, neither of these men lived inadequate lives -- their fine examples are their legacies. Their work as entertainers was a service to us, gave us opportunities to access the deepest reaches of our souls and the brightest aspects of our sensibilities. In this indifferent and volatile world, there will always be a need for Johnny and John and Warren and all those artists who have left their physical bodies, and leave a body of work for us to revisit and remember.

Thanks, gentlemen. Safe travels.