Kris Kristofferson, the much-loved actor and country music singer-songwriter, passed away at his home in Maui on September 28.
Kris Kristofferson, the famous actor and country singer-songwriter, has passed away at the age of 88.
A representative said he was surrounded by his family and died “peacefully” at his home in Maui on Saturday, September 28.
In a statement shared with PEOPLE, his family said, “It is with heavy hearts that we share the news that our husband, father, and grandfather, Kris Kristofferson, passed away peacefully at home on Saturday. We feel so blessed to have had our time with him. Thank you for loving him all these years, and when you see a rainbow, know he’s smiling down at us all.”
Kris Kristofferson was born on June 22, 1936, in Brownsville, Texas. His parents were Mary Ann and Lars Henry Kristofferson, who was a Swedish immigrant and an Air Force general. Kris developed a love for country music early on and wrote his first song, “I Hate Your Ugly Face,” when he was just 11 years old. As a military kid, he moved a lot before his family settled in San Mateo, California, during his teenage years.
According to his website, Kris had two short stories published in Atlantic Monthly when he was 18. In 1954, he went to Pomona College in California, where he played football, boxed in Golden Gloves competitions, and was the sports editor for the school newspaper. He was even featured in Sports Illustrated’s “Faces in the Crowd” issue in 1958. After graduating with a degree in creative writing, he earned a Rhodes Scholarship and completed his master’s in English literature at Oxford University in 1960.
According to the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs, after college, Kris Kristofferson’s parents encouraged him to join the military. He enlisted in the U.S. Army and, within five years, became a helicopter pilot and reached the rank of captain. While stationed in West Germany in the early 1960s, he continued writing songs and formed a band with other soldiers. After his service, he was offered a job teaching English at West Point military academy.
However, during a visit to Nashville, Tennessee, while on leave, he rediscovered his love for music. This led him to leave the Army in 1965 and pursue a career in music full-time. In a 2010 interview, Kris said, “I just fell in love with the music community there. The older musicians really supported the newcomers, and it was a very soulful time. It was the best decision I ever made.”
In Nashville, Kris Kristofferson worked as a night janitor at Columbia Studios while submitting songs he wrote, like “For the Good Times” and “Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down.” “For the Good Times” was first recorded by Bill Nash in 1968, but it became a hit when Ray Price released his version in 1970. The song appeared on Kristofferson’s debut album and earned a Grammy nomination for Best Country Song in 1972. It was even covered by soul legend Al Green.
Kristofferson’s song “Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down,” also from his first album, was picked up by Ray Stevens and Johnny Cash. Cash’s version became a hit, winning Song of the Year at the 1970 CMA Awards and reaching No. 1 on the country charts.
Another famous Kristofferson song, “Me and Bobby McGee,” co-written with Fred Foster, was released on Janis Joplin’s posthumous 1971 album Pearl. The song became a massive hit, reaching No. 1 on the pop charts and earning two Grammy nominations in 1972. That same year, Kristofferson won his first Grammy for Best Country Song for Sammi Smith’s version of “Help Me Make It Through the Night.”
Throughout the 1970s, Kristofferson released more albums and hits, including “Loving Her Was Easier (Than Anything I’ll Ever Do Again)” and “Why Me,” which earned two Grammy nominations. He also worked with his second wife, singer Rita Coolidge, on several albums, winning two Grammys for their duets “From the Bottle to the Bottom” and “Lover Please.”
In a 1970 New York Times article, Kristofferson was described as “a poet more than a musician,” admired for his ability to connect country, pop, and underground music.
Kristofferson also became a successful actor, appearing in films like Cisco Pike (1972), Pat Garrett & Billy The Kid (1973), and Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore (1974). Despite having no acting experience, he felt confident about acting and took on roles based on his understanding of the characters.
His big break came with his role as a troubled rock star in the 1976 remake of A Star Is Born, alongside Barbra Streisand. This role won him a Golden Globe for Best Actor in 1977. He later became known for playing Whistler in the Blade trilogy with Wesley Snipes.
Music was always a big part of Kris Kristofferson’s life. He teamed up with Johnny Cash, Waylon Jennings, and Willie Nelson to form the country supergroup The Highwaymen. Their first album, Highwayman, and its title song topped the country charts in 1985. The group released two more albums: Highwayman 2 in 1990 and The Road Goes On Forever in 1995.
Throughout his long career, Kristofferson received many awards, including three Grammys and a lifetime achievement award from the Recording Academy in 2014. He was also nominated for an Oscar in 1985 for Best Original Song for the movie Songwriter, in which he starred with Willie Nelson. In 2004, he was inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame.
In 2013, Kristofferson shared his struggle with memory loss. At first, doctors thought he had Alzheimer’s, but it turned out to be Lyme disease, according to CBS News. His wife, Lisa Kristofferson, explained that once he got the right treatment, his condition improved quickly.
“He was on all these medications for things he didn’t have, and they had side effects,” Lisa told Rolling Stone in 2016. “But after treatment, he came back. There are still tough days, but some days he seems perfectly normal, and it’s easy to forget he’s even dealing with anything.”
After releasing his final studio album, The Cedar Creek Sessions, in 2016, Kris Kristofferson officially announced his retirement from music in 2021. He also shared that Morris Higham Management would be handling his estate.
Clint Higham, president of the management company, praised Kristofferson, saying, “He is the artist that every artist wants to be. If there were a Mount Rushmore for songwriters, Kris would be on it.”
When asked about the secret to life in a 2017 interview with Men’s Journal, Kristofferson said, “I once made a list of rules. It said: Tell the truth, sing with passion, work with laughter, and love with heart. That’s a good place to start.”
Kris Kristofferson is survived by his wife, Lisa, along with his eight children and seven grandchildren.
He was first married to Frances Beer, and they had two children: daughter Tracy, born in 1962, and son Kris, born in 1968. With his second wife, Rita Coolidge, he had a daughter named Casey in 1974. Kris and Lisa have five children together: Jesse (born in 1983), Jody (1985), John (1988), Kelly Marie (1990), and Blake (1994).
Privileged Parents Excused Their Child for Kicking My Seat on the Flight, Claiming “He’s Just a Kid!”, Karma Delivered Them a Teachable Moment
On a long flight, a woman’s patience is tested by a child who kicks her seat and parents who ignore the disruption. What begins as a frustrating ordeal soon takes a surprising turn, revealing that karma has a way of delivering unexpected lessons.
As I settled into my aisle seat for a seven-hour flight, I hoped for some much-needed relaxation. With a book in hand, noise-canceling headphones on, and a good playlist ready, I thought I was prepared for the journey ahead. The cabin was packed and the air felt stuffy, but I was willing to endure it for a peaceful trip.
Then it began. A soft thumping at the back of my seat started to grow louder. Initially, I dismissed it, thinking a child was just adjusting in their seat. But the thumping became a steady rhythm, kick, kick, kick, each hit harder than the last.
I turned around and saw a boy, around six or seven, swinging his legs and grinning as if he were having a great time. His sneakers repeatedly slammed into my seat, creating a mini drum concert. His parents, seated nearby, were glued to their phones, completely unaware of the chaos their child was causing. I hoped the boy would tire out soon, or that his parents would notice, but the kicks only intensified.
After what felt like an eternity, I finally decided I couldn’t ignore it any longer. I turned around, offering a polite smile and asked the parents to ask their son to stop kicking my seat. The mother barely acknowledged me, dismissing my request with a “He’s just a kid!” before returning to her phone. I tried again, but the father was too engrossed in a video to care. Sensing his parents’ indifference, the boy kicked even harder, laughing as if he were winning some game at my expense.
I pressed the call button for the flight attendant, hoping she could help. She arrived, friendly and professional, and I explained the situation. She approached the family, asking them kindly to stop the boy from kicking my seat. For a brief moment, there was silence.
But as soon as she walked away, the kicks resumed, even more forceful this time. Frustrated, I stood up and spoke louder, asking them again to control their child. The mother rolled her eyes, and the father muttered something dismissive. The boy laughed and kicked harder. At this point, I was fed up. I called the attendant again, asking if I could switch to another seat. She returned shortly with good news: there was a seat available in first class.
Without hesitation, I grabbed my belongings and followed her to the front of the plane. The first-class section was a welcome relief, spacious, quiet, and free of children. I settled into my new seat, and the tension melted away. I was finally able to relax, enjoying a drink and diving into my book.
As the flight continued smoothly, I overheard the attendants talking about my old seatmates. The boy had found a new target for his kicks, an elderly woman who had taken my place. When she asked him to stop, the mother snapped at her, escalating the situation to a shouting match that caught the attention of the flight crew. I felt a twinge of sympathy for the elderly woman but couldn’t deny the poetic justice unfolding. As we prepared to land, I noticed security vehicles waiting by the gate.
When we disembarked, I saw the family being escorted off the plane by security officers. The boy, who had been so bold earlier, was now crying, clinging to his mother. The parents looked embarrassed, no longer the dismissive people they had been. I left the airport feeling a sense of satisfaction that surprised me. Karma had intervened, allowing me to enjoy my first-class experience and witness a bit of justice served.
As I walked past the family, I couldn’t help but smile at them. It was a small gesture, but it felt like the closure I needed. Sometimes, the universe has a way of balancing things out, and that day, it certainly did. With my book finished and my flight experience greatly improved, I walked away with a story that would surely entertain friends in the future.
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