Patricia or Pamela?

by Lisa Nesselson

It also includes a rather florid, adjective-laden announcement from Patricia Kennealy Morrison: Twenty-five years down the road, on July 3, 2021, half a century since the day James Douglas Morrison died, Patricia Morrison intends to publish, under the title "Fireheart," the letters, drawing, poems and other creative material given to her by the man she calls her husband. (For the uninitiated, Patricia and Jim were joined in a white witchcraft ceremony of their own making, so there is no paperwork with which to legally "legitimize" their mutual love bond.)

Copyright law requires that Patricia refrain from publishing the alluded-to documents under Jim's name unless she wishes to do so under the heading of his "estate" -- an entity for which she appears to have nothing but contempt.

The magazine's editor Rainer Moddemann, who has seen some of the goodies in question, writes, "Believe me, Jim's words and his letters will definitely blow all people away who are still criticizing Patricia's and Jim' relationship...".

Still criticizing?

I have an immediate irreverent vision of people in suits who report to work each morning, Mon-Fri, punch a clock and proceed to debate whether Jim loved Patricia more than Pam or vice versa. It's grueling and demanding work, full of supposition and emotional archeology. When these people get a hankering to change jobs, the only place they're qualified to work is the rival firm where specialists continue to discuss whether or not Yoko broke up the Beatles.

In an adjacent room there's an eternally renewed discussion about whether Mama Cass Elliot really choked on a ham sandwich -- and were there any other luncheon meat culprits in the vicinity? Cass was a splendid vocal talent and one of the all-time great talk-show guests, so it's natural to want to find meaning in her tragically early death.

Reference is often made to Rock 'n' Roll Heaven. The aforementioned debates might lead to Rock 'n' Roll purgatory.