I have been working on this book for at least three years. Kris died on September 29, 2024, the day before I was to submit my manuscript to Atmosphere Press. My plan had been to get a few desk copies out and to find a way to get Kris to read at least part of the book. In my imagination I believed he would love the book and possibly give me a tiny blurb to put on the back cover. This clearly never happened. This book is a homage to Kris’s writing.

I wrote “Kris” above even though I never met him. There is something about his writing that speaks to me. In some real sense, perhaps a figurative sense, he is a friend. Kris is essentially a storyteller who introduced me to many characters that I still care about. When I heard he died, I had to stop.

Sit down. Visual images of his characters swirled around me: Bobby McGee singing in that truck, the alcoholic in “Chase the Feeling” just thinking of himself, the woman of the “Stranger” wanting someone to believe in,” the ribbon from her hair laying soft on his skin in “Help Me Get Through the Night,” Darby burning his castle down, the guy having beer for breakfast looking to wear his cleanest dirty shirt in “Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down,” an old man (like me) feeling his mortality, the pilgrim looking for a shrine he never found, the beautiful harmonies with Rita Coolidge, Kris’s use of repeated sounds in surprise outbursts. I don’t want to stop. I have to stop.

Something you wrote in “Good Morning John” deeply moved me. I’ll lob it back to you with a few changes: “God bless you, Kris! For the love and joy you’ve given us and the living inspiration that you’ve left us.”

~Richard Somma