Book Excerpt: Anchored In Love

July 2, 2007 — -- My first memories of my mother are of a delicate lady with a kind voice. Mom was very protective of me. Her hands were gentle, and her touch was soothing. She always talked quite a bit, but she was bright and affectionate.

I was born on March 3, 1970, as Mom and Dad's stardom was nearing its peak, while The Johnny Cash Show, was airing regularly on network TV. The week I was born, Dad opened the show with a slightly different form of his usual greeting: "Hello," he said into the cameras with a broad smile. "I'm John Carter Cash's daddy."

Mom reported that they received flowers, gifts, letters, and phone calls from all over the world, including from the governor and the president. Before all the hoopla died down, she said, she'd mailed out two thousand thank you notes.

My parents kept me close to them. I even slept in the same room with them throughout my younger years. When they traveled (and they did so almost continuously), I usually traveled with them. My first trip to Australia occurred the same month I turned one year old. There are thousands of photographs of my parents and me, taken all over the world. Literally, they kept me by their side day and night. I made show appearances from my earliest days and don't remember the first time I walked on stage without being carried, but I was likely just over three. Loretta Lynn recalled that she used to baby-sit me backstage when she traveled and performed with Dad's "Johnny Cash: The Man in Black" shows. "June would be up there singin' while I watched John Carter," she said. "The minute she was done, I'd holler to her, 'Hey, June! Come and get this little brat! I was just about to whup him!'"

Soon I was joining the show. Sometimes after singing "Boy Named Sue," Dad would say, "Well, I did grow up and have a son, and I named him…John Carter Cash!" Then I would walk out and sing something with him and Mom. I remember the rush of the crowd and the exhilaration I felt, my heart swelling with my smile. Mom had taught me the words to "Will the Circle Be Unbroken?" and at an early age I began singing it at the end of the show with the rest of the family. We also sang "Daddy Sang Bass" and "The Fourth Man in the Fire." I sang these songs with my family for the first twenty-seven years of my life, and whenever I hear any of them now, I'm instantly taken back to those exciting and joy-filled days. I was introduced to the performer's life early on, just as my mother had been, and I was intoxicated by it in some ways, probably charmed by the crowds as much or more than they were by me. I would not trade those days for anything. We were the consummate traveling musical family, close and full of love. I followed my mother's lead and sang along. Mom was the essence of safety and love to me then, my source of wellbeing.