Roll Me Up and Smoke Me When I Die: Musings From the Road

by Willie Nelson

  After that, it was all just life happening, and working out how I was going to give up my career because whenever he was off on a tour, I was somewhere else on the planet working on a film, and something had to give for us to be together. Obviously we worked it out.

  “And when you get right down to it, there it is.”

  I think Zeke Varner said that.

  Annie and I are flying back to Maui now. I just finished a great tour. We had good crowds and played well. You can’t ask for anything better than that, and I can’t either.

  Maui is kind of like a hospital zone for me. It has healing qualities, like the sun and aloha mixed together. It is good medicine. Annie and I love coming here, and we do every chance we get. Annie loves to cook—she’s a really a great chef and keeps getting better. She loves to invite the island over and feed them all. That is her hobby.

  Me, I love to gamble with my friends (surprise, surprise). My friend Zeke was good at poker and dominoes. He taught me a lot. I love to invite my gambling buddies over and see who’s the luckiest son of a gun tonight.

  Maui

  THINK IT AND BE IT, AND YEA THOUGH I WALK THROUGH THE VALLEY of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, because I’m the meanest son of a bitch in the valley. Do you think that I am a little overconfident? Maybe, but I believe the best defense is a great offense, and whoever lands the first blow has the advantage. Like Billy Joe Shaver said, “I don’t start fights, but I try really hard to finish them.”

  I’ve been beaten up a few times, and I never learned to like it. If I can scare you off with big talk, I’ll try that first. Hide grows back, but good clothes don’t, and in the early days I didn’t have a lot of clothes. Speaking of Billy Joe Shaver, he is one of the best songwriters, alive or dead. He is in the same league as Kris Kristofferson, Hank Williams, Merle Haggard, Vern Gosdin, or anybody. He says it like it is with as few words as possible, and that’s the real formula, I think.

  I sing Billy Joe Shaver’s song “Georgia on a Fast Train” and Waylon Jennings’s “You Ask Me To” every night, because they are great songs.

  One time Billy Joe was in one of the shows I put on in Austin, Texas. It was in a cow pasture in Dripping Springs. He took some peyote before he got there and thought he was Jesus. He preached for hours to anyone who would listen. He said he saved a lot of souls that day and baptized them in a mud puddle. They were very grateful, and still love the lord till this day as far as I know.

  Kris and I have been great friends forever. Kris is still writing great songs. I did an album of Kris’s songs and an album of Billy Joe’s songs. I still sing “Help Me Make It Through the Night,” “Loving Her Was Easier,” and “Me and Bobby McGee” in my shows. We played music and acted in movies together, like Songwriter. We also made a Western in Spain that I really enjoyed. We got to ride horses and play music with Gypsies every night. That’s hard to beat.

  Thought for the Day: If there is no solution, then there is no problem.

  These are words to live by, you should teach them to your kids, and if there is one thing I know for sure, it’s I don’t know nothin’ for sure. I think I’m smart . . . start with that one.

  ANNIE NELSON

  Besides my own father, my husband is one of the funniest people I know, and the very best person I have ever met. It is true that after years together you get set in your ways and can finish each other’s thoughts before you’ve even had them, which might seem mundane to some, but the one thing that lasts is a sense of humor. Our family will always be fine because if anything gets too heavy, one of us cracks a joke, and every one of us appreciates the humor (translated: we are all smart-asses), so the heavy just disappears. I highly recommend humor for relationship longevity. It’s hard to stay mad when you’re laughing your ass off.

  With kids, the sense of humor really comes in handy. When Lukas was born, I was having a hard time with the lack of privacy. I wanted the time, after both the boys’ births, for my family to bond alone. Turns out you can get that time, but boy, do you have to be a bitch to make it happen. It did happen, however (ergo some bitch was had), and both boys are completely bonded with their father. I believe that bond is due to the time we got alone, and the fact that when they were young we took them everywhere with us. Both Lukas and Micah learned to walk on the bus, which I believe is one reason sports like surfing that stress strong balance were easy for them.

  We taught them to use their words to express their feelings, and that’s what you really need to have a sense of humor about. But when you are a parent, your words coming back at you can sometimes be something you absolutely have to learn to laugh about!

  I HOUSEBROKE MY DOG. EVERY TIME HE SHIT ON THE FLOOR I WOULD rub his nose in it, then throw him out the window. Now when he shits on the floor, he rubs his nose in it and jumps right out the window.

  INTERMISSION

  I shouldn’t have a problem writing this book; I’m so opinionated that I can give you my opinion on anything, anytime, and I’m glad to do it because I’m just an asshole. But they say opinions are like assholes: everybody has one. I guess. “While in all your knowing, know yourself first.” I’m not sure who said that. It was either Billy Joe Shaver or Jesus.

  GOLF

  Swing hard, you might hit it. That was my first idea about golf, and learning to swing easy is still a work in progress. Mark Twain said, “Golf is a good walk spoiled.” I own a golf course and recording studio outside of Austin at the Pedernales Cut-N-Putt in Spicewood, Texas. The great writer-producer Chips Moman built the music studio, which sits next to the golf course. We cut “Pancho and Lefty” and “Always on My Mind” there, and I still record there.

  Sister Bobbie and I just did some recording there. Buddy brought all the good pickers in Nashville down to record my new CD Heroes at the Pedernales Cut-N-Putt. My son Lukas is singing with me on the new CD as well. He is so good, it’s scary, and when Micah is there painting, singing, and playing, it all sure makes a great picture.

  LUKAS NELSON

  My dad has been a perfect example of the type of father I hope to be one day. He has shown me, with and without words, how to conduct myself with grace in the world. That is, in my opinion, the best form of teaching. I have always wanted to be like my father because people enjoy being around him and feel comfortable in his presence. What more can we ask for in the bettering of ourselves? Not perfection, that’s for sure. It is ease that he exemplifies. Ease of mind, ease of heart . . . I see him make mistakes, and I watch them dissolve into lessons effortlessly for him. This is what I have learned from him. I have learned how to find the ease in most every situation. It is the most valuable tool that I have in my life and has allowed me to quiet my mind enough to follow my bliss.

  HIGHWAYMEN

  I met Waylon Jennings one night in Phoenix, Arizona, at an all-night restaurant next to the Holiday Inn where I was staying. We hit it off pretty good right from the start. We were both from Texas and were already called “outlaws.” I don’t know about Waylon, but I ate it up. It was good for my image. Waylon asked me if I thought he should go to Nashville. I asked him how much money he was making in Phoenix, and he said four hundred a week. I told him to stay where he was. I was getting like five hundred a night, but the commissions, hotel, fuel, food, and traveling took it all. I thought he had a better gig than I did. Fortunately, he didn’t listen to me.

  Waylon Jennings

  We stayed great friends all the way. We disagreed on almost everything and argued like old married people. We were on different drugs. He liked speed, and I didn’t like speed. I was going too fast already.

  The Highwaymen tours were the most fun I ever had before or since. Kris and Waylon would argue about politics; John and I would laugh a lot. Later on they would call me just to hear a good joke. I loved John and Waylon. They are dearly missed to this day.

  Kris and his wife, Lisa, came by this week on his way to somewhere. He looked great. We laughed a lot, burned one down, and solved all the world’s
problems. I love you, Kris; you’re the real deal!

  ANNIE NELSON

  All the Highwaymen tours were probably my most relaxing and fun tour times. We had four full families on giant tours, all over the planet. Our kids all pretty much grew up on the road. It was the Nelson, Kristofferson, Jennings, and Cash gang all growing up and seeing the world together. Lisa Kristofferson and I were pregnant together at one point, and one of my favorite memories of those times was June Carter Cash telling us both not to worry while we were out there because if either of us went into labor, she was there to deliver them babies! She would have done it too. I loved June and miss her to this day. Our boys were not spoiled with material possessions, but they were spoiled with experience. They traveled all over the planet, and when we were in other countries, they played in parks with other children and never had to share a language, just the fact that they were children; the language of children was the only one they needed to know. They learned so much sharing those times. Knowing people from other cultures gave them the gift of understanding that we really are all the same, and no matter how different we may look, or how ideologically apart we are, we really have more in common than not. We all love, laugh, cry, and are moved by the common language of music together. I am so grateful that I chose the husband I did, so that our children would be children of the world and contributors to the common good.

  It is amazing to see those little kids who grew up on the road, now all playing music together. A couple of months ago, John Carter Cash, June and Johnny Cash’s son and part of the “HighwayKid posse,” produced a Johnny Cash birthday concert. The whole show was so emotional for me. Many of the musicians onstage were also musicians on some of the Highwaymen tours. When they started playing the song “The Highwayman,” that was it; I lost it! Onstage were Willie, Kris, Shooter Jennings (standing up for his father), and Jamey Johnson. When Willie and Kris started into their parts of the song, it was as if twenty-five years simply melted away. It was a moment that took me back, and I could see the four of them singing together and cracking each other up.

  When the kids were little, they would be on the side of the stage, always dancing and singing along with their dads. On the Johnny Cash birthday night, Lukas was on the road touring with his band the Promise of the Real, but Micah was there onstage playing the charango along with the band! The times they do change, but the road maybe does go on forever, and the party just may never end!

  Willie and Kris Kristofferson

  It must be true that as you get older the more you look like your pet, because my neighbor came over this morning and chewed me out for shitting in his front yard.

  —ROGER MILLER

  Roger Miller was the funniest son of a bitch in the world. He kept me laughing for years. Here are a few Roger jokes:

  A lady had bought a screen door at a hardware store. As she was leaving the clerk said, “Do you want a screw for that?” She said, “No, but I’ll blow you for that toaster.”

  A man in the used-car lot was looking around and kicking tires. The salesman said, “You thinking about buying a car?” The man said, “No, I’m going to buy a car; I was thinking about pussy.”

  One night in Nashville, in a snowstorm, me, Roger, and Kris were sitting around in our hotel trying to write a song. We were there all night and all we could come up with was “I got AIDS; if you fuck with me I’ll kill you.” Roger was one of the greatest songwriters of our time. He wrote songs like “When Two Worlds Collide,” “When Your House Is Not a Home,” “Old Friends,” “England Swings,” and “You Can’t Roller Skate in a Buffalo Herd” . . . Thank you, Roger!

  IT’S NOT FOR ME TO UNDERSTAND

  I passed a home the other day

  The yard was filled with kids at play

  But on the sidewalk of this home

  A little boy stood all alone

  His smiling face was sweet and kind

  But I could see the boy was blind

  He listened to the children play

  Bowed my head and there I prayed

  Dear Lord above, why must this be

  And then these words came back to me

  After all you’re just a man

  But it’s not for you to understand

  It’s not for you to reason why

  You too are blind without my eyes

  So question not what I command

  It’s not for you to understand

  Now when I pray my prayer is one

  I pray your will not mine be done

  For after all I’m just a man

  And it’s not for me to understand

  YOU KNOW YOU SHOULDN’T BE READING THIS BS, IT COULD RUIN you for all time to come. You could end up a social outcast like me, an outlaw . . . OMG!

  As my old friend Ben Dorsey says, “If you need a friend, buy a dog.”

  MARCH 2012

  Ziggy Marley and his family are visiting with us today. He played a show on Maui last night. He is a great family man and has a beautiful family. We recorded a song called “This Train” together once, for his children’s CD. I think he won a Grammy. It’s good to see him again. I still have to get him back on the poker table. He goes to Australia next. His whole family is into music. It’s nice to be able to play music with your family. All my family is into music too.

  Me, Sister Bobbie, Susie, Paula, Amy, Lukas, and Micah, and even Annie plays bass. Lana is the only one who is not a musician. She is so talented in so many other ways, like writing, art, and making videos, and she has a great sense of humor. She can turn trash into a thing of beauty. I’m lucky to have her on the bus with me.

  LANA NELSON

  It is an honor and a privilege to be the Flighty Attendant aboard the Honeysuckle Rose tour bus. I hate to call it a bus; it’s actually more of a member of the family than a bus. More time will be spent wrapped in these steel arms than anywhere else in the world. It’s a dear friend that’s also a home. Some days it’s just a handful of us onboard, leisurely traveling across America the beautiful, but other times we are packed so tight folks are sleeping on the floors. Every day is a different challenge. I will be serving, cooking, cleaning, and assisting with luggage and various secretarial chores. My duties may change daily, but my desire to be there doesn’t.

  All I have ever wanted to be or do was to work with Dad and help him with his career, to be his head cheerleader. I would listen to his radio shows when he was a local DJ and I was a toddler. My favorite song was “Redheaded Stranger,” a song by Arthur Smith that he would play on his noon radio show. He would sing it to me at night to put me to sleep and he promised someday he would record it so I could listen to it whenever I wanted to.

  I cried when he sold his song “Family Bible” because I thought no one would ever know how talented he was if his name wasn’t on the record. Dad was sweet and explained to me how we really needed the fifty dollars and everything would be okay. He made another promise: that someday he would buy us enough land to stretch as far as we can see and none of the events of today would even matter anymore. I was four years old.

  When I was a kid, we moved a lot—every time the rent came due—and I was always trying to make new friends. I’d wind up having to explain how my daddy worked in the daytime and at night because he was a musician and that’s just what they do, and how making saddles or selling vacuum cleaners wasn’t his real talent but rather just a way for him to make money. He was actually a big star. I’d give them a quick rundown on some of the songs he had written and how someday they would be huge hits and they could say they knew him when.

  I never went as far as my cousins Randy, Mike, and Freddie. They set up tours through Aunt Bobbie’s house and into the room where Dad was sleeping, granting the other kids in the neighborhood a quick glimpse of a rising star for twenty-five cents.

  Dad nearly gave his life for me in a shoot-out with my abusive first husband, Steve, and then wrote the song “Shotgun Willie” about the whole ordeal. I have always liked the way he copes with di
saster.

  In 1975 Dad hired me away from the state of Texas and a job at the state capitol to be his secretary at a little office we had in Oak Hill west of Austin. I paid some of his bills and wrote the checks, including the ones to the band, which was then on a $225 weekly retainer to keep everyone from either starving or getting another job. We moved the offices to a house in Dripping Springs that Dad and Connie had just left empty after they moved to Colorado. It was out of this house that we promoted various other concerts and the Fourth of July picnic in Liberty Hill. You know that one. That’s the picnic where Paul whipped out his gun and shot holes in the sagging roof of the stage to relieve the intense water pressure from that afternoon’s torrential rains. It wasn’t the only time that day that Paul used his gun, but it was the most productive.

  When Mark became Dad’s manager, we moved the main offices to Danbury, Connecticut. Soon afterward Dad bought the Pedernales Golf Club, plus seven hundred acres nearby. We turned the clubhouse into the Pedernales Cut-N-Putt recording studio (which I managed). At the time the golf course was private for his friends, family, and musicians who were recording at the Cut-N-Putt.