ON WRITING

by Joseph S. Bonsall

 

Does a writer ever know what is next? Beings writing is not my day job, I don’t ever set aside writing time as some authors do.

 

“I write from 9 AM to 2 PM every single day!” I have heard.

 

Not me! I need a thought or an idea to trigger the writing side of my brain, and then the faucet is turned on and away I go.

 

“Hey, Joe or Joseph, we need a short commentary on the rutabaga shortage in Uganda.”

 

All right… blank page… The Rutabaga in actuality a turnip and the recent wars in Uganda have been responsible for… See what I mean?

 

I need a direction or a storyline or an event to push me into writing. Here is an example.

 

While dining in a restaurant I once saw an old man get lost and separated from his wife who was sitting very nearby. He began to tremble in fear, as he didn’t realize where he was or why he was there. He began to drop food from his tray so I rushed to him and tried to be of help. His wife saw what was going on and ran to his side as well. She guided him back to their table, nodded to me, and said, “I am so sorry, he is going through a very tough time right now… so sorry.” She retrieved a flip phone from her purse and called her daughter. She looked so very tired.

 

I went back to my room and wrote about Big Jim Tolefson in the short story “Big Grin” which appears in my Christmas Miracles book. As an aside, I got the name Jim “Big Grin” Tolefson off a mailbox while walking in a town in Minnesota one day. I actually wrote it down. So there! Another trigger. The story begins... James “Big Grin” Tolefson had once been a Naval Destroyer Commander.

 

My process for beginning On the Road with The Oak Ridge Boys started with a reflection of my wife calling the Oaks a phenomenon just before leaving time once evening when she and I were sitting at a restaurant across the street from our office. After writing An American Journey I had no idea how to approach a new book on the Oaks, as requested by Harvest House Publishing, but that reflection gave me an idea for a start, and I just kept going.

 

I remember sending the first five chapters to my editor to confirm the direction I was taking was all right, and that we were on the same page so to speak. He loved the course I had taken so I just kept writing. The end result is a fun book. The Harvest House team also allowed me to share my faith. In fact, they had hoped I would, as Harvest House is a Christian publisher. I didn’t let them down. Just wait until you read my final chapter, “A Final Personal Note from Joe” Some great Jesus in this chapter, and we all could use a little more of Him in this day and age.

 

I had lunch with some of the Harvest House folks the other day, and we discussed what I should write next. It will likely be another non-fiction book, but I do have a novel almost finished. I started it about four years after 9-11. It’s called The Miracle of White Tail Hollow.

 

My protagonist is a character named John Barlow, a member of a very special, under the radar group called The Patriots. These men are the best there are in what they do. John must constantly juggle his love for his family and his dedication to serving America. He must also come to grips with his faith in Jesus Christ and how it applies or not to that which he does so well. Along the way there are miracles—and some vicious warfare. I love this book, and I hope you get to read it one day. But for now it has just been a good exercise in storytelling.

 

I do love to write, and I hope to inspire on many levels with the words that flow. Just like singing, I want to entertain you, but I also hope that something I say or do or write will touch your heart. That is really what all of my writing is about.

 

Thanks for reading…

 

BOOK RAMBLINGS

by Joseph S. Bonsall

 

 

THE MOLLY THE CAT BOOKS

 

“Molly was two years and still looked somewhat like kitten.”

 

These words pretty much started my writing career. Oh, I’d had several pieces published in some magazines before, that and when I was a kid I wrote little stories constantly about gunfighters and ballplayers. But nobody ever saw those. My mom probably threw out those notebooks years ago when she cleaned behind the basement stairs at 3517 Jasper Street. (She also tossed my marble and baseball card collections in the trash.) It would be fun to read that stuff today.

 

But, back to Molly… I thought I had written a whole Disney movie screenplay, and what many probably don’t know is that the original manuscript was one story with even more characters, like Olivia the beautiful barn kitty and her dog Spots.

 

Originally published by Ideals Children’s Books, the Molly the Cat books were published as four books, MOLLY, THE HOME, OUTSIDE, and BREWSTER. All four books were amazingly illustrated by Erin Marie Mauterer and were all very successful. My cast of characters was based on real cats and a real bulldog (Old Bru), with the exception of the villain, Red, who was simply a mean and nasty bully. Everyone knows one of those.

 

The Molly books are harder to find these days, although they seem to show up from time to time on Amazon and eBay. Maybe one day Molly and her friends will appear on a big screen utilizing my original screenplay. If that happens, I hope I am alive to see it!

 

As a side note, all of the cats in the books have since passed away and gone on to The Better Place that The God of All Creatures has prepared for them. And, I have a great cast of characters sharing our home now (see the section on my cats). I just may have to write more cat books one day…

 

The Crocket Kitty? Hmmmm…

 

 

 

G.I. JOE & LILLIE

 

By far my most successful work to date has been G.I. Joe and Lillie, published by New Leaf Press. This tender story of war, love, faith, patriotism, and loyalty, which is based on the lives of my parents, Joseph S. Bonsall Sr. and Lillie Maude Collins Bonsall, was a labor of love for me. The fact that so many have read this book, and even identified the characters, has been an added blessing.

 

There have been many veterans of World War II, just like Mommy and Daddy, who gave so much of themselves. And, as a writer, I am honored beyond words that so many veterans have found meaning in this little book.

I wrote G.I. Joe & Lillie in a third person narrative and many are surprised that Joey in the book, the storyteller, was actually the son. Spoiler alert, as the kids say. However I don’t think it matters much at this point if you know that Joey is your author and son of these patriots, who now rest at Arlington National Cemetery.

 

“The good soldier who fought the war and the woman who loved him is a story as old as time itself. As we approach the uncertainties of the future, it is good to know that this kind of love, faith, and dedication does exist. Yes, I believe it does and, yes, I believe it always will.

 

The key word here is ‘faith’—faith in God, faith in country, faith in each other.”

 

Excerpt from: G.I. Joe & Lillie

 

I hope you have read G.I. Joe and Lillie.

 

 

 

 

AN INCONVENIENT CHRISTMAS

 

Published by New Leaf Press, An Inconvenient Christmas is a wondrous little story about a family whose lives are changed by experiencing the most awful Christmas imaginable. Absolutely nothing goes right for the Winsteads, and they eventually come to realize that ‘the most inconvenient Christmas that ever was… was the FIRST.’

 

Based on The Oak Ridge Boys’ recorded song, which was written by contemporary Christian music writer Kyle Matthews, the book was illustrated by Jon Taylor and is a fun read for the whole family at Christmastime and any time!

 

 

 

 

AN AMERICAN JOURNEY

 

The idea for a coffee table size book about The Oak Ridge Boys was actually on the table for many years (pun intended). When New Leaf Press decided to take on this monstrous project it was decided that yours truly would write the text. So, much like my new On the Road with The Oak Ridge Boys, I tried to make you, the reader, a fly on the wall in the world of the Oaks, while telling the story of how this group came to be, and how we had endured for 30 years at the time the book was published.

 

AAJ is chock full of pictures, and the writing will take you along on our amazing journey. It is a nice mix of history and storytelling that I think you will enjoy.

 

I fear sometimes that the many folks who have purchased this book over the years look more at the pictures, but I hope you will take the time to read my text as well. There are some real pearls contained in this American Journey.

 

 

 

 

FROM MY PERSPECTIVE

 

It was my friend, associate, and book agent Kathy Harris who came up with the idea of a book full of stories, musings, commentaries, and thoughts that covered a variety of topics from music to life and America to faith. This book, published by Sheaf House, provided a huge canvas of opportunity for me to write about a plethora of subjects, and I tried to take full advantage of this, perhaps once in a lifetime, chance to just let the words fly.

 

Although the subjects vary, the book never seems scattered in any way. Everyone has his or her favorite yarn in FMP. My author friend Andy Andrews, whom I admire and respect so much, goes on and on about BARNEY… a tender little story about a baby barn swallow. So from “Barney” to “When I Was Elvis” to “Springtime” to “Musings on Heaven,” there is something for everyone in From My Perspective. As a bonus there is a very cool faith-based short story at the end called “Billy’s Tornado,” that I think you will enjoy.

 

 

 

 

 

CHRISTMAS MIRACLES

 

This is a book of short fiction stories, as well as some thoughts on Christmas, published by Richards and Southern. The idea came from my friends Terry Calonge and Kathy Harris. I love writing fiction, especially when the outcome of the story is faith based and a miracle is involved, and I sincerely feel like some of my best work is reflected in these stories. Meet some wonderful characters and have your heart warmed by these Christmas Miracles. I think each one could be a Hallmark movie…

 

 

 

 

ON THE ROAD WITH THE OAK RIDGE BOYS

 

This is my NEW release, published by my good friends at Harvest House. You can read about this book in other sections of the website so I will just add a little preview. I hope you enjoy it…

 

 

Prologue:

 

A PHENOMENON

“Living Our Dreams”

 

When I was first approached about writing another book about the Oak Ridge Boys, I wasn’t really sure whether I could take it on. Writing is an all consuming art, and although I’ve managed to write quite a few books over the years, this task seemed daunting.

 

Several years ago I wrote my heart out about the Oak Ridge Boys in a coffee-table book called An American Journey. I thought that book was the whole story. But my wife, Mary, inspired me to keep writing about the group, and I’m not sure she even realizes it.

It was a summer afternoon, and I had to leave early that evening for a concert at a big Midwestern state fair. Normally we’d leave at around midnight, but Darrick Kinslow, our tour director, set the departure time for six p.m. to give us plenty of time to arrive in Somewhereville, USA, to get set up and prepare for the huge grandstand show the next day.

 

Mary and I decided to eat dinner out early. We picked one of our favorite places, which just happened to be right across the road from our offices and the gathering point for our departure. We drove there separately so she could head for home after dinner and I could drive over to our parking lot, grab my stuff, and board the bus. As I remember, it was to be a four-day trip.

 

After dinner, Mary and I sat together in her truck in the restaurant parking lot and watched the constant activity across the street. The two big black Prevost tour buses had started and were now on high idle. Band guys and crew guys were arriving. Some arrived by themselves while others were dropped off by family members or friends. The life of the road musician leaving home was being played out right there in that parking lot, and it was exciting to watch it unfold.

 

I was just about to tell Mary goodbye when she turned to me and said something I’ve never forgotten. With teary eyes and a halt in her voice, she said, “You know, hon...that’s a phenomenon going on over there. You guys are a phenomenon! It’s so hard to believe you all are still out there performing at such a high level...it’s just a phenomenon.”

After her voice trailed off, she regained her composure, kissed me, and added, “Now get going. You’re never the last one on the bus!”

 

We both laughed, and I watched as she drove away in her big, white Silverado pickup, back home to a houseful of cats and, as usual, no husband for the next several days.

You have to realize that Mary Ann Bonsall never says much about the Oak Ridge Boys. Singing is what I do and what I’ve always done, so for me to get on the bus and leave home is a natural part of our lives. But this particular evening seemed a little different somehow. Mary doesn’t give props every day, so I must admit my heart was warmed as I parked my own truck and boarded the bus with a few shoulder bags, my laptop, and four days’ worth of clean laundry and stage wear (clean jeans and some cool shirts).

As is usually the case, I greeted and was greeted back warmly by two of my fellow Oaks, Duane Allen and Richard Sterban. Then our fourth member, William Lee Golden, pulled into the lot, so I was indeed not the last one to board the big bus—our rolling home away from home.

 

I threw my stuff into my designated area on the back couch, hung my clothes in my closet, and decided that even though it was early I would crawl in my bunk and get some sleep. I had worked hard on my farm the past few days, and I was tired. My stomach was full as well, so I settled in, pulled the covers up to my chin, and just lay there for a while.

I could hear the guys laughing and cutting up in the front lounge. Richard already found a baseball game on the TV in the back lounge, and Darrick, or DK as we call him, was already on the phone, talking to tomorrow’s promoter. Our driver pulled away from the office, the other bus full of band and crew followed, and suddenly we were off. Buses on the move...time to ride...time to sing again. It has never gotten old—no, not once!

 

Leaving home is always hard though, and as we rolled through the early Tennessee evening I felt myself drifting off into a wonderful and much-needed sleep. I could still hear Mary’s voice echoing, “You guys are a phenomenon...a phenomenon...”

 

Her words made me realize there really is still a lot more to write about the Oak Ridge Boys.

 

 

 

LIVING IN A BUBBLE

by Joseph S. Bonsall

 

I mention in my book From My Perspective how desensitizing and sanitizing television news can be for this short attention span world we live in now. In my fourth day of observing the riots in Egypt on cable news, I realized that I had to take my cat Sunny to the vet, go to the bank and the cleaners, and stop by the office to sign a few things. My wife, Mary, was cooking up a gourmet dinner, so I also had to stop by Publix and pick up some cilantro and sage.

 

And, ‘Oh… we need ink for the printer,’ so a stop at Office Depot is in order.

 

I hear bluegrass music. It’s my iPhone.

 

“Yes, Hon. I will pick up your prescription at Walgreens and, of course, I will bring the cat home first, and THEN finish the errands!” Sunny would hate Walgreens as much as he hated the vet!

 

American bubbles! We live our lives! We steer our little ships! We float on, sometimes as if nothing else in the world is really happening, except for that which affects us on an hourly or daily basis. In reality this is all quite normal.

 

In about an hour, Sunny will have had his wounded eye medicated and will be in his bed, probably stewing because his ‘cat world’ bubble was interfered with, and I will be eating some form of specially-prepared Mary Bonsall dinner, sipping on a great Cabernet, while watching FOX News.

 

“Wow! Look, Hon, those riots in Egypt are getting worse. Is that a tank?”

 

As of this writing I have no idea how this Egypt problem will be solved, but I know this. It is important! I am not a Biblical scholar, but I do read my Bible. I am not a geo-political expert, but I find that what is going on in the Middle East right now bears a serious review and study.

 

I am not preaching that the end of the world, or the rapture, is drawing nigh. But it may be. And we can’t afford to be complacent about it. Eternity could be in the balance here.

But isn’t it always?

 

There have been many times when it seemed the world might end—and it did not. I am sure that during World War II, right after the Great Depression, when Germany was steamrolling over Europe as they rounded up and killed every Jewish person they could find, and Japan was trying to rule the rest of the world with violence and totalitarianism, and our young men were being killed daily, that pulpits everywhere were preaching the End of Days. And who could blame them?

 

How about the Dark Ages of plagues and barbarism? How about the Civil War era right here in America? How about the Crusades? I could go on, but you get the point. Is this it? The end?

 

No man knows. However, friends, one does not have to be a philosopher or a prophet, or possess a doctorate in well... anything, to notice all of the signs of destruction that are going on all around us, starting with that horrible day of September 11, 2011, when, for the first time ever, Americans were attacked and murdered on our own land by Muslim extremists.

 

Also consider all of this… Somalia, the Sudan, Mexico, Spain, France, Libya, Syria, Jordan, Iran, Iraq, Yemen, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Tunisia, North Korea, and now Egypt. This a just a partial list of political unrest, terror, and financial meltdowns, to say nothing of the failed banking and housing and big time bailouts right here in the good old US of A that have buried us underneath a mountain of debt which we can never pay back.

 

How about natural disasters? As I write this commentary, the biggest cyclone in the history of the modern world is pounding Queensland, Australia. The same area that was flooded in a Noah-era style rainstorm just a few weeks ago.

 

Volcanoes are blowing off steam all around the world, while earthquakes and floods have swept away parts of India, the Caribbean, and South America. Much of the U.S. is stuck in a blizzard and deep freeze of enormous proportions. There have been 13,000 flights canceled in two days, and this is actually about the third such blizzard this year.

 

Do you ever remember seeing so many tornadoes and deadly hurricanes? Katrina alone wiped out an American city, and how many small towns from Kansas to Mississippi to Arkansas to Oklahoma have been blown away in just the last couple of years?

 

Sometimes we get hit right in the bubble, and it hurts too. My own city of Nashville almost flooded away last May. A tornado took my friend’s home in Hendersonville, TN, and another tornado near my farm in Macon County, TN, took a friend’s daughter and granddaughter when their home was blown away.

 

Listen, my friends, I am speaking in generalities here and, of course, much good rises up in these times of strife and trouble. But still, you must agree that the plate has been pretty full of late.

 

Heck, the moon even turned blood red during a solar eclipse about a month ago, and birds have fallen out of the sky all around the world for no reason. Now that does sound biblical, doesn’t it?

 

Let’s get back to the Egyptian riots on TV. As we eat our dinner, one talking head after another is trying to explain it all to us. We pour another glass of Napa Valley and do our best to make sense of the overall picture. Israel is about to be surrounded by extreme Muslim entities that have pledged to destroy their country and kill every Jew in sight.

This is a fact.

 

Is Iran behind all of it? Hamas and Hezbollah and Al-Qaeda and the Muslim Brotherhood hate America as much as they do the Israelites. So just what does happen to America here?

 

It is easy to brush it off as just another TV show, but we really cannot. I know that one bunch of people in the streets throwing rocks in the Mid East looks just like any other, and it seems they are always right there yelling and screaming while we eat. But we need to be paying some attention as we bubble along.

 

Suppose this is it! What if all of the natural disasters and political unrest and the exploding Middle East are signs that portend the return of Jesus Christ and the End of Days, as we know it?

 

I know it seems scary, but we should not embrace fear. We should embrace prayer and faith in Him, the One who created this earth. If we are living in the Way and the Truth and the Life that is in Him, then we will be just fine.

 

I am just saying that it is all right to live in our American bubbles and execute our individual game plans and await the Super Bowl. But I implore you to pay some attention, my brothers and sisters, because something is indeed going on around us. It’s much more than just a newscast with lots of video and loud talking.

 

Don’t be overrun or desensitized by it, but do take the time to give it serious thought.

Take the time to read your Bible and be prayerful. Not fearful.

 

Hold up your loved ones and hold on to Jesus, for He is the answer in all things. Only God knows whether all of these things are just bumps in the road of a constantly evolving world—or if He is preparing His Son to come quickly. Take heart and be glad in the promises of the true Lord and King.

 

Today I have put a lot of thought and prayer into this Middle Eastern turmoil, but after finishing this writing I am going back into my bubble. I really have to go and love on my cat Sunny. I am sure he is still mad about the vet!

 

Addendum: March 11, 2015 While looking over what to keep for the updated website and what to discard as older writing. I read this 2011 piece with much interest. I could have written it almost word for word today. All I would have to do is add ISIS and the constant barbarism on display in the Mid East. Therefore I will keep it on my website. Perhaps it might provoke some thoughts among my constant readers. I know it did for me today… JSB

 

 

February 4, 2011

REFLECTING ON MOMMY

by Joseph S. Bonsall

 

 

So hard to believe that 2001 with all of its horrors of 9/11 is so far behind us now. My mom and dad also passed in 2001, so that year will always stand out to me for those many reasons. G.I. Joe passed on to Glory in January, and Lillie would join him in October. Their remains rest in Arlington National Cemetery, but I am assured that their souls and new bodies now abide with our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

 

For some reason I have been thinking a lot about my mother of late. I miss her hazel green eyes, the likes of which I have never seen before. I miss her cherubic face and her big smile that always showed off her somewhat oversized teeth, of which I inherited. She was never ashamed of her smile and neither am I.

 

I miss her short brown hair that she NEVER allowed to go gray. I miss her soft voice and even her loud voice…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Joey… Nancy, if you two don’t stop it right now, I’m gonna kill you both!”

 

“You can’t catch us, Lil!” We would actually call her Lil when she got mad.

 

“You have to go to bed sometime!” Oops

 

What a dedicated, hard working, and loving woman she was. My sister and I never doubted for one moment that we were loved. We were taught to love God and to love America, and boy could that woman make a fried egg sandwich. She was also so very funny. We used to pull stuff on her all the time over the years just to get her to laugh.

 

She once had this tall, artificial plant in the living room that she just adored. It was hideous, and Nancy and I would hide it from her. It was amazing how many places we could find to stick that thing in a little two-story row house. One time, during a Christmas visit, we put it out on the street. It was snowing and freezing, and when she saw it there she screamed and ran out the front door to get it dressed in just her baby doll pajamas that she loved to wear. We, of course, shut and locked the front door behind her. I never laughed so hard in all my days at Lillie knocking on that door, plant in hand, and yelling at us.

 

“You LET ME IN RIGHT NOW”

 

“It’s COLD OUT HERE”

 

“I HAVE TO PEE, DOGGONE IT!”

 

“I will KILL YOU IN YOUR BEDS!”

 

She was always going to kill us in our beds.

 

I used to send her lily flowers every Easter and on Mother’s Day, because she always said they were her favorite. Once when The Oak Ridge Boys had a night off in upstate Pennsylvania I rented a car and drove down to Philly to surprise her. There was nothing like a Lillie greeting. “JOOOOEEEEYYYYY” followed by a real mommy hug. It always meant the world to me.

 

Well, I went upstairs to the bathroom and smelled something flowery sweet. I moved back the shower curtain and there were my lilies. What?

 

Her excuse was that the smell made Daddy sick. He just looked up at me from his wheelchair and shrugged. I stopped sending the lily arrangements.

 

It was always easy to blame Daddy. He couldn’t talk. Another example. Mommy would call and say, “Honey, you know those special chocolates that Daddy loves that you get on your computer? Would you send him some of those?”

 

My poor diabetic mother might have lived ten more years had she ever adhered to her Diabetes regimen. Daddy didn’t even like chocolate.

 

I could go on and on and on about them both, but I will stop now. You can get to really know my parents by reading G.I. Joe and Lillie, but I assure you there is so much more. I love them dearly. I would be nothing today if not for them. I miss them, but I know I will see them again as is His promise.

 

Until the day, Lil… Until the day…

 

 

 

JOE'S THOUGHTS ON THE OAK RIDGE BOYS INDUCTION

INTO THE COUNTRY MUSIC HALL OF FAME

by Joseph S. Bonsall

 

 

Every year I have wondered if we have done enough to ever be inducted into The Country Music Hall of Fame and I have oft wondered how I would feel if that induction ever came our way. I have no words and yet I have thousands of words racing through my heart and mind. I am in total awe and tears are flowing.

 

We have been honored and blessed on so many levels and have accomplished so many great things together for almost 42 years. We have constantly worked hard and we have always tried our best to be honest and treat people with love and respect. We have seen dream after dream come true and we are thankful and humbled every day.

 

Now this day has come and it is the biggest thing to ever happen to The Oak Ridge Boys.

 

To me this is Cooperstown… this is Canton… This is Cleveland… This is NASHVILLE….

 

We are now immortalized. Our peers and powers that be have said “Well Done Oak Ridge Boys Welcome to this sacred ground” and now our grandchildren’s children and their children will see that all of the hard work and all of the miles and all of the songs have been rewarded. Long after we are gone… we will still be HERE!

 

I feel that our journey is far from over. As long as The Oak Ridge Boys can breathe I assure you we will be singing. But now it will be oh so different. The whole paradigm has changed. Four little Boys from Texas, Alabama, Philadelphia and New Jersey who dreamed of singing songs in four-part harmony are NOW in “The Hall”

 

I have no words…

APRIL MORNING

by Joseph S. Bonsall

 

The Bible asks us to ‘consider the birds,’ and when one lives in Middle Tennessee that is almost unavoidable, although some Type A personalities are probably too busy for such consideration.

Old Ban-Joey here can be as Type A as the next guy, but I have learned to take the time to not only consider the birds, but to honor and enjoy ALL of the beauty that God in His mercy allows to flow into our lives on a daily basis. My life on this earth has been all the better for it, too!

 

Yesterday the weather here was stunning, and so I took that opportunity to work on my little plot of terra firma for about ten hours. I weedeated my brains out, cut a ton of grass, and even had a chainsaw in my hand for a bit and feel lucky that a few trees got cut without the slicing of a femoral artery. ALWAYS a good thing!

 

The Oak Ridge Boys are off the road a lot this month, while planning and recording a cool new Gospel minded, acoustic driven project, so I have had a chance to really catch up on work at my farm, and I have done just that. But now, the work is done, and I am enjoying a beautiful April morning.

 

Morning is a blessed time when one can sit on the porch, sip on a good cup of coffee, and think and pray and listen. It is early and the sun rises above the tree line to immediately be swallowed up by the low-lying cloud cover that permeates most of the sky. Yes, a storm is imminent today with lots of rain in the forecast and even some possible severe weather, as yet another tornado-spawning band is about to sweep across the southland, which again makes me very happy that my work is finished for now. But this IS April, and as soon as one cuts grass you can almost hear it growing. So, in reality, work is NEVER really done.

 

But for now I am caught up, and it seems that there is another mean storm on the way, a storm that has already left a lot of damage in its path. One can only hope and pray that it will weaken as it passes through.

Yes, it will rain soon, but for now all is still and the air is filled with constant chirping and the flutter of wings. There are birds everywhere. They are flying, building nests, and mating all around the holler.

 

I hear the distinctive chattering of the red-winged blackbird that, like the ring-necked kingfisher, was given a more aggravating sound than most birds. My barn swallows are here and their conversing is almost hysterical. They are so communal, and a couple will just sit and talk to each other using varying sounds and volumes that defy imagination.

 

I hear meadowlarks, who possess the most beautiful call of all, and I can hear the mourning doves cooing as well. The owls have not gone to bed yet, for far away I can hear them hooting at each other.

 

Bluebirds, tanagers, wrens, rough-winged swallows, flickers, cardinals, and mockingbirds are all here. Wild turkeys way off in the distance do not seem happy for some reason and that reason could be the pack of coyotes who seemed to howl all night long at the early rising, waxing moon.

 

The ruby throated hummingbirds have arrived and seem to be working hard on the red and purple tulips that adorn one of Mary’s many gardens. I look in the distance and I see a flock of very small birds coming towards me. They are undulating in flight as if on a small roller coaster. Only one bird flies that way. Could it be? Goldfinch?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I almost lose my breath and tears well up as indeed about ten passing goldfinch land in the tree not five feet in front of me. These are my favorite bird of all. Yellow as God intended yellow to be, with little black wings and a bit of black on top of their head as if they were wearing a small black cap.

 

Did my mom send them to me today knowing how much I loved them? Did my dear Ms. Lo-Dee send them as I used to tell her all about my love for them? I am not sure, but my heart fills with joy as I behold their beauty.

When I was a kid I had these little bird models that my Nana Gertrude Clark would buy for me. Oh yes, I had planes, battleships, tanks, and jeeps and such, as well, and to be honest I never was much good at putting them all together. But my bird models were my favorites, and my goldfinch was the best one on the shelf.

I remember going to the hobby store down on Kensington Avenue and picking out just the right yellow paint, and I also remember that that one was the best of the lot. I have always been a bit too quick doing things and that is why Duco cement was caked around the wrong places on most of my models. But I remember really taking my time painting and putting together my little goldfinch.

 

A flutter of little wing sounds fills the quiet morning air and just like that… they are on their way to, I believe, a destination much farther north. Big tough old Philly boy has to fight back another tear, even though I know I will see many more of them come May. Thank you, God, for this blessing this morning. Had I not been on the porch at this particular time I would have missed this small chapter in nature’s handbook.

 

I have sat out here for three hours and have let my mind wander and my soul rest. There is much I could occupy my mind with this morning, but I will ponder these things at a later time.

 

For now… rain falls, wind blows, flowers grow, and birds sing. Just another April morning.

BIRD DOG

by Joseph S. Bonsall

 

In my new Harvest House Book “On The Road With The Oak Ridge Boys” I touch upon the amazing effect that our group and our music have had upon special needs children over all of these times passing. It has always been such a rewarding blessing when we hear of say an autistic child who does not communicate hardly anything at all to anyone recite the names of all four OAKS or to be able sing out every single word of “ELVIRA.” We have done a lot of work with Special Olympics over the years and it is always been amazing to me that a special child on some level of understanding believes that William Lee Golden sings “Thank God For Kids” just for them. It boggles the mind and warms the heart.

 

Then there is the ‘Bird Dog!’ We used to know him simply as Joey from North Carolina and his parents have been bringing him out to hear us sing since he was a very small boy. Joey suffers from cerebral palsy for certain and his out of control body always shakes with uncontrollable joy whenever any one of us stops to talk to him and of course we always do. His mom and dad always make sure that his wheelchair is strategically parked right where we can see him as we get off the bus to sing and he is always right there after the show as well to say good bye to his favorite group. Joey loves the Oak Ridge Boys and always has. His room is adorned with our pictures and our music is always blaring on his sound system or iPod.

 

Joey cannot talk through his disability. All he can do is make a series of indiscernible sounds. To shake his hand one must grasp it firmly which is not an easy task as moves as if it had a life of it’s own.

 

Joey is almost thirty years old now and has been coming to shows all of these years but over the last five or so something miraculous has happened. Joey can now communicate through a special computer and he emails me quite often. It is amazing to find that a very intelligent and all American boy lives inside of this uncontrollable body. His early emails came from Joey In Carolina but more recently they come from Bird Dog! Along the way he has become Bird Dog. I am not sure why but it sure makes me smile. I won’t go on and on here but an email from Bird Dog might read. “Hey Joe, wanted you to know that I am coming to the show in Newberry South Carolina on March 28th and wondered if you could please sing “God Will Take Care Of You” and dedicate it to my mom. She has not been well of late and I know this old hymn would mean the world to her. You know I love you man. Please say hey to all of The Boys from me. God Bless… CU in SC!” Bird Dog

 

A young man in a wheel chair who has no control of his nervous system communicates like a valedictorian via email. It makes me sad in a way yet it also brightens and enlightens my heart on every level. Joey AKA Bird Dog is always the subject line and I have now learned so much about a young man who I am certain is not paid much attention to at all out side of his immediate family and The Oak Ridge Boys.

 

How do you measure a blessing like this? This is just one blog and one story and I thank Harvest House for inviting me to share it. I actually have many stories like this one. I may write about them all one day.

 

God bless you and thanks for reading.

 

Addendum: I often think of the book about one John Merrick whose physical deformities labeled him The Elephant Man. I remember people thinking how hideous and sad it would be if an intelligent man actually dwelled somewhere within and it proved out to be true. “It would be better if he was a mad fool,” Someone said and I never forgot it for he was far from being a FOOL.

 

Perhaps you know someone like The Bird Dog. It is worthwhile to spend a little time and get to know them. My daddy was disabled most of his life. A stroke at age 39 crippled him and took 90% of his ability to speak. I found I could always understand him. You just have to take the time! God will bless you for it…

FANCY FRIES

by Joseph S. Bonsall

 

Once during our heyday years of the eighties, The Oak Ridge Boys were approached by a bunch of business men/franchisers who wanted us to consider opening a chain of Y’all Come Back Saloon gift shops and restaurants. They would do the work, all we had to do was license our name and likeness to the chain and ‘the money would just roll in.’

 

I remember staying up late at night thinking about the menu. The possibilities were endless. ELVIRA Burgers. FANCY FRIES. BA BA BA BAR B Que. SAIL AWAY Fish Sandwiches, DREAM ON Filets, and on and on. But none of these ideas ever came to fruition.

 

Back in those days country stars were ALWAYS lending their name to something or another. Some successful adventures ensued, and many came up short.

 

There was the Barbara Mandrell Hall of Fame, the Hank Williams Jr. Gift Shop, the Johnny Cash Museum, and even Conway’s Twitty City. There was Bill Anderson’s Po Folks, Kenny Rogers’ fried chicken, George Jones’ dog food, and Ronnie Milsap’s Beech Bend Park in Kentucky. And WHO could forget Lorrie Morgan and Sammy Kershaw's hot chicken? Actually many of us have forgotten!

 

Most of those franchises are gone now, but the most successful of all…DOLLYWOOD continues to thrive. Dolly is a brilliant woman. In her own words she is ‘just like the girl next door who happens to own an amusement park.’ She is now partnering with…yes, “OPRY…LAND” to build a huge water and snow park in Nashville. I’ll bet that place will ROCK, even though I am not sure what a snow park might be.

 

Alabama has done well over the years with a restaurant chain and their Alabama Theater in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. In fact many people have successfully put their name on entertainment complexes in places like Pigeon Forge, Myrtle Beach, and Branson. We loaned OUR name to a theater in Branson for a few years, and that actually worked out just fine. But the pathway is also littered with failures. Too many to name. Anyone recall the Lee Greenwood Theater? Didn’t think so...

 

It would seem that the new kids making music today have no real interest in this sort of thing, and that may prove to be a smart move. I have yet to see TAYLOR WORLD or CARRIE BURGERS or PAISLEY PIZZA. Or the Lady Antebellum Hotel chain. Or CHESNEY CITY. I have yet to eat at a Rascal Flatts’ Pancake Den or a Zac Brown Steakhouse. But I am sure these ideas still fly around. If an idea DOES come to the table for a TIM AND FAITH SPA franchise, someone had better counsel with Dolly Parton.

 

I remember once when my Molly The Cat books were popular. Mary and I almost signed on to having MOLLY CATNIP and a line of Mother Mary’s cat food. But that never panned out and, to be honest, I am happy about that. Why clutter up your life? Keep it simple I always say.

 

Duane Allen has talked about an Oak Ridge Boys museum for years, but he always shelves the idea in lieu of finding more good songs to sing, and hey…isn’t that what we are really about?

 

Working on our show and our music, while coming up with cutting edge, forward thinking ideas that work together on every level to keep our group ahead of the game from a creative and GOOD business standpoint…to that, I would say, ‘yes indeed.’ That is where The Oak Ridge Boys have always put our energy…and I am not really sure that we will EVER have a desire to open up a restaurant chain.

 

But if we ever do...

 

Anyone care for some FANCY FRIES????

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

PULLING THE WAGON

by Joseph S. Bonsall

 

Well it is obviously arm chair quarterback time in America.  As Republicans and conservatives lick their wounds many questions come to the forefront. Was Romney the right candidate.... What did he do wrong... What did The President do right to deserve four more years in office and on and on it goes. I will not elaborate on this because we have all heard enough...

 

I found two statements meaningful on this Wednesday morning. My wife called and said “Guess what hon, the sun still came up this morning.” Also, a very popular public figure said that “Perhaps America got what it deserved last night.”

 

One statement brought a smile while the other brought a chill!

 

Yes It is quite obvious that we are in all involved in a cultural civil war in this nation and it is getting worse. We have tons of people who now believe that they are owed a living by the US Government while other hard working people like me pay through the nose and will NOW pay a lot more. There are those who ride in the wagon and there are those who are pulling and that wagon is getting more full by the minute.

 

If you look at the map though you will still see mostly red ..... Did just about the whole south and midwest get what they deserved? Even in the big states that went blue which include New York and California and Ohio a breakdown of counties still show more are colored RED as well.  It’s just that the blue covers all of the big cities. More population on the dole, more illegal immigrants and more union control. I still like to think that the so called fly over states are the backbone of America... At least I HOPE so.

 

In the great HBO series the Pacific when the war abruptly ends after years of constant combat a young Marine turns to his friend and says “What do we do now?”

 

So for those of us who believe in smaller government, lower taxes, energy dependance and the right to bare ARMS? Those of us who morally, philosophically and spiritually fall down on the conservative thinking side of the equation?

 

Well... What DO we do now?

 

As I continue to cling to my bible and guns I see Government control of my healthcare for certain now. I see my taxes going up and then up again. I see a scaling down of our military and Benghazi proved a serious lack of national security thinking which could get worse. Fast and Furious brought to light a justice department that is amazingly careless and clueless at the same time. I see no domestic oil drilling and coal may vanish. I see more and more national debt mounting up. I see more gay marriage and legalized pot smoking in the future.

 

I did not sign on for ANY of this and I don’t deserve it either.

 

Look, this President can be as charismatic as any politician I have ever seen and he DOES have the ability do do what is really right for this nation but WILL HE?

 

I am not sure but I am still trying to remain hopeful and optimistic through my faith in and love for Jesus Christ AND this great land but I am still human and I will admit to be more then a little worried... about ALL OF IT!

 

Yes my dear Mary the sun did come up this morning and that is a good start and you know what? It will rise again tomorrow God willing!

 

So.. So what do we do now? We stand steadfast in our beliefs and pray and trust God to help us through it all.

 

We all also pray for President Barack Obama and ALL of our leadership.

 

We pray for  America...

 

As for me? I keep on singing and pulling the wagon! (JSB)

PRINCIPALITIES

by Joseph S. Bonsall

 

“For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in heavenly places” Ephesians 6:12 KJV

 

The discussion started simply enough. I was talking to some friends from Cleveland about The Oak Ridge Boys’ wonderful relationship with Cracker Barrel and in one of those ‘oh by the way’ moments I was asked if I had heard about the tragic shooting at one such restaurant in Brooklyn, Ohio. I mentioned that I had heard about the crazed father who killed his wife and daughter, severely wounded another daughter, and was then shot dead by the police.

 

The table got quiet as this unimaginable story sunk in. Supposedly the woman had told the man that she was leaving him and he freaked. She called 911 from a cell phone but it was too late as the man withdrew a firearm and shot his entire family. The police shot him as he fled the restaurant, according to local newspaper reports.

How does this kind of thing happen?

 

I recall a Springsteen song that answered the question by saying, “Well, sir, I guess there's just a meanness in this world.” Moreover I would add that there is an EVIL in this world. There always HAS been.

“It just slips on through,” I whispered almost to myself....

 

The Bible is very clear about the constant battles that rage on between the forces of good and evil all around us. These principalities of light and dark can not be seen by human eyes, which is merciful, because our finite human minds could in no way take in these higher mysteries.

 

These battles rage on and they always have. Right vs. Wrong, Good vs. Evil, Satan and his minions vs. Jesus Christ and all of God’s Angels… This is a battle for control of all that exists. This is a battle for our very souls.

The Devil was once an angel you know, who fell from God’s grace and was cast into Hell with one third of all the angels who had sworn allegiance to him. Demons... dark forces... minions of Hell.... EVIL!

 

I recall when Jesus confronted the man who was possessed of demons and asked the identity of the interloper. The demon answered, “ I am LEGION for WE are MANY” That has always creeped me out a bit. How many is MANY? Millions? Billions? Infinite?

 

I am no scholar so I have no idea the size of these armies, but I have read the book so I know who eventually wins. However, the evil that constantly ‘slips through’ is quite disconcerting to those of us who try our best to walk in the Light.

I am constantly taken with the word principalities. My studies show that this is a derivative of the word prince, and this term is used many times in scripture to denote both sides of the axiom. The Devil himself has been described as the Prince of Darkness and the Archangel Michael is referred to as a “prince” in the book of Daniel, which contains a terrific story of a fierce battle between principalities….

Daniel prayed for God to deliver Israel from what was referred to as an evil Prince of Persia. God sent an angel right away in answer to prayer to fight these minions of evil and the battle lasted twenty-one days. The angel, in fact, asked for help from Michael to defeat this evil.

 

But alas… back to the present. How does all of this affect our daily lives? Well, this evil that slips through will never go away until Christ returns so, therefore, we must gird ourselves with the ‘armor of truth and the breastplate of righteousness’ and hold high ‘the sword of salvation.’ We must lean upon the sacrifice of the cross and the victory over the grave. We must stand upon the promises of Christ, our King, and rely on HIS word until that day when ALL evil is vanquished forever, and we who believe WILL live in HIS light and LOVE forever, as is HIS promise for those of us who believe IN HIM... The LAMB of GOD . . . who was slain for OUR SIN!

 

Yes, evil exists on every level and why God allows it to happen is again beyond our understanding. But we are assured that one day we WILL know even as we are KNOWN, and we must take comfort in this.

 

I believe that this evil in the world that slips through the veil is a constant reminder that we are getting closer to that day when Jesus and His army will split the skies and take us home to glory and away from the sadness of war and strife and sadness. But we must stay strong and fight the good fight. WHO is ON the LORDS side? WHO is on the WINNING side?

 

Yes, there is VICTORY and the victory is in sight.

 

Lean upon this, “Neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any created thing, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which IS in Christ Jesus” (Romans 8: 38-39)

 

Even as I write this piece I have just heard of an abducted family and two bodies found dead… A suicide bomber has killed himself and those around him half way around the world… on and on and on it goes!

 

So yes, there is much evil on this planet, and we have a 24-hour news cycle to show it to us from every angle imaginable. But friends… let NOT your heart be troubled.

 

FAITH is the ANSWER. So stay strong. God’s angels are fighting for us even as I type!

 

Authors note: The best book I have ever read on this subject, besides God’s word, is Angels by Billy Graham. I highly recommend it! (JSB)

THE FALLEN

by Joseph S. Bonsall

 

 

A series of events took place over the last few days that began on Twitter of all things. First off, I must admit to being a Twitter addict. My little @joebonsall Twitter page is always aglow with 140 words or less pieces of diatribe. As is the @oakridgeboys. Tweet headquarters, to which I also contribute tidbits on a daily basis.

 

I follow a group on Twitter called @goodsoldiers These fine, patriotic folks tweet the names of the those young servicemen and women whose lives have been lost, sadly on a weekly and sometimes daily basis, in hot spots around the world. The name, age, and location of the sacrifice are always given in the Tweet, along with a link where you can click and learn about the Fallen Warrior.

 

One day recently I received an email from my good friend Darrell Bowling with a YouTube link to a Radney Foster / Darius Rucker song from a few years ago. It’s called Angel Flight, and the lyrics are written from the standpoint of a pilot of a C-130 transport, whose job it is to transport The Fallen home to the USA, to such places as Dover AFB and others that will care for and ship the body home to his or her family. One lyric to the song reads as follows: “It doesn’t matter where we set down… On the Angel Flight it’s sacred ground.”

 

So very moving.

 

I would add here that former Marine Bowling, who sent me the link, lost his only son in Iraq. I wear the name of Jon Bowling on a black bracelet on my right arm… everyday!

 

During a day off the road this week, I decided to take a ride out to the country where I own property on the Tennessee / Kentucky line. My plan was to kick back a bit, do some work, clear my mind, play some banjo, and maybe do a little writing, which I am doing right now.

 

On the way I got behind a long line of cars moving slowly on a two-lane stretch. At first I lamented the fact that it would take forever to get around the traffic. Then, in the far distance, I could barely make out blue blinking lights, indicating an accident or something.

 

I resigned myself to a much slower trip to my farm than usual. Then it hit me. The cars coming the other way had all pulled over. It hit me hard when I saw an old gentleman who had gotten out of his car and was standing in the middle of the road in a full salute.

 

By now, hundreds of cars had pulled over, and the funeral procession weaved its way down the road. After several more miles, the Sheriff stopped and the funeral procession turned left into the parking lot of a small, red brick church, where a lonely cemetery stood off to the left.

 

As I passed the church I could barely make out the red, white, and blue in the back of the hearse. I understood then why the old man had been standing in the middle of the road saluting, and I broke into tears.

 

I was reminded of my mother’s remains arriving in Arlington, VA, and my sister saying, “Here she comes, Joey.” A big blue hearse pulled up and there was my Lillie resting beneath the Stars and Stripes.

 

I drove on… weeping all the way to my farm.

 

It is very sobering, as it has been through the decades, to see our young men and women come home in a flag draped coffin, and we must love them all every single day, for they are the best of us.

 

The Fallen! They have given ALL for you and me, and MUST be remembered.

 

If you are on Twitter… please follow @goodsoldiers for the constant reminder of the prices paid and sacrifices made—for our freedom!

 

FROM MY PERSPECTIVE:  February 5, 2011

WHY SUCH MISERY?

by Joseph S. Bonsall

 

The older couple walked into the restaurant and sat down to order. They complained about everything from the time they sat down. The menu was horrible. It was too dark in there. On and on and on it went. They looked to be about eighty, give or take a few years on either side, and I was just awed by them. I wish I could have kept eating my steak and fries and ignored them but I could not. It’s hard not to notice such misery and even harder not to wonder about the root cause of it.

 

Every life is a story. Every one has a bit of a dark side, I guess. Some just disguise it better. There had to a reason. Perhaps they had received some bad news of late. Maybe their son is a serial killer who just got caught, or maybe they have the Shingles.

 

It looked to me like they were in relative good health, although that is subjective for certain. What I did observe was that they drove up and left in a pretty nice car and they walked without assistance. They seemed strong mentally, I guess. But, wow, were they miserable.

 

I guarantee that if they came to a show we would be too loud and would sing all the wrong songs. Heck, they couldn’t get on our appearance much, as we are not that much younger than they are. But I am certain they would have found a lot to complain about. Probably would have asked for their money back because our guitar player’s hair is too long or his guitar is too loud . . . or something. Heck, Donnie’s HAIR is TOO LOUD!

 

I guess what seeing folks like this really does, though, is make me think of my mom and dad who both died way too early from just being tired of being sick, and sick of being tired. But they were like the sunrise compared to these people. My Lillie would have LOVED to be able to board a tour bus or get in the car with Daddy and drive to a place like Branson, MO. She would have LOVED this restaurant and would have treated the waitress like gold no matter how her food was prepared. She would have gone to every show she could and would have probably even ridden the coaster at Silver Dollar City. Lillie loved everyone and God knows HER scars went deep.

 

My dear friend Lo-Dee lost her health in her nineties and never complained. No not ONCE! She always smiled and witnessed for Christ and made everyone around her feel welcome and comfortable no matter HOW she felt. I remember when her son passed away how very sad she was. But once she emerged from behind her curtain she instead made everyone around her comfortable with her loss. She cared more about those around her than she EVER did for herself. She inspired me on every level and in every moment.

 

Now, we all have moods, sometimes the dark cloud follows us around for whatever reason and we just can’t duck out from under it.  I am not being judgmental here. It is just that these two folks made me sad. Sad for THEM!

 

Maybe they only need more God in their lives! Maybe they are tired of each other’s company. I DID notice that he walked out ahead of her and did NOT open the car door for her. He just slid behind the wheel and started the car while pissing and moaning about who knows what.

 

Maybe she has been tired of that for decades and hates his guts, or maybe she had an affair with the landscape guy in 1976 and he has never forgiven her. Who knows? I DO know this . . .

 

Whatever is bringing you down, Jesus Christ can and WILL lift you UP. There is NEVER a reason to mistreat people and an occasional smile is good for you. I hope and pray that I read them wrong and really wish them a better time of it all. But my gift of discernment rarely lets me down and this couple seemed to be on a very negative and unhappy pathway, and at a certain age there is not all that much pathway left.

 

As for me, I am thankful for the Lillie’s and Lo-Dee’s of this world who have influenced my own pathway. Just thinking of them makes me smile and makes any dark cloud in my own life evaporate, vanish as if it never existed in the first place.

 

 

BLONDIE and TRUFFLES …

by Joseph S. Bonsall

 

When Mary and I bought our farm in 1998, we knew I wouldn’t be home enough to maintain a lot of animals out there. Originally the place was a Quarter Horse training farm but, again, horses need so much care. Maybe someday IF I ever slow down, I will fill the property with cows and chickens and horses and big dogs, but for now there are just two donkeys… Blondie and Truffles!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

During our first year out there, our neighbor, Harold Pitcock, maintained several hundred head of cattle, and farmers use donkeys to protect the cows from coyotes.

 

“A donkey will kick the daylights out of a coyote,” the neighbors say.

 

Well, one day this little blond donkey was born at the Pitcock farm. She looked just like a Disney character, and we just HAD to have her. Harold told us that as long as she had water she would exist just fine in one of the paddocks that had been built for the horses… complete with a protective ‘lean-to’ building.

 

Harold also said we would need TWO and proceeded to give us the little blond Jenny, as well as another chocolate-colored little girl. He even delivered them right to our paddock where they have lived now for just over 17 years.

 

Blondie and Truffles… our SPECIAL OPS guard donkeys.

 

We have really grown to love them both so very much as they are really characters. I may write a book about them someday.

 

I have learned that a donkey can live anywhere from 30-35 years, which means I may be dead and buried on the hill and they will STILL be down there in the paddock munching on grass and begging for an apple from time to time.

A REFLECTION OF DADDY

by Joseph S. Bonsall, Jr.

 

 

Father’s day 2015 falls on Sunday June 21st, exactly 15 days after June 6th Therefore it was seventy-one years ago, on June 6, 1944, that my own father as a young man of eighteen years old hit the Normandy Beach, code named UTAH, on D-Day.

 

I am so very honored to have been given the opportunity, as his son, to chronicle his life and that of my precious mother in the book G.I. Joe and Lillie—as well as the song by the same name, which appears on The Oak Ridge Boys Colors album.

 

Once, while doing a book tour interview on a PBS radio show, a very interesting question was posed to your author: In researching your father’s war years for G. I. Joe and Lillie did you learn anything new about him?

I had to think long and hard about that one. I certainly learned more about the Tough Ombres of the Fighting 90th Infantry Division and how they got from Point A to B before and after the invasion…. But did I learn something new about my dad?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I knew he came from an abusive, alcoholic, and dysfunctional family. I knew he had run away and joined the Army. I knew about D-Day, St Lo, and his Bronze Star, Silver Star, and Purple Heart with two Oak Leaf Clusters. I knew about his nightmares and his drinking problems.

 

I also knew he was a hard worker. He loved my sister and me, and especially his Lillie with all of his heart. I knew he was only 39 years of age when he had his debilitating stroke. And, I knew he spent his entire disabled life feeling badly about what he perceived to be his shortcomings.

 

I knew he loved WWF wrestling and fried chicken. I knew he liked to boo the Phillies and that he cried on Christmas mornings. I knew that he came to love God, and he certainly loved The Oak Ridge Boys.

He was very proud that his son made something of himself—despite his fear that little Joey might turn out to be useless because he was not mechanically inclined and couldn’t hammer a nail straight into a piece of wood, even if his life depended on it. (I still can’t do that very well.)

 

I have made it my life's work to remember stuff, and there wasn’t a new thing that I thought I could learn. But....

Have you seen the Kevin Costner movie Field of Dreams?

 

It is one of the few “guy cry” movies, along with maybe The Dirty Dozen and True Grit (kidding). Anyhow, what brought the male of our species down to his knees was when the grownup Costner figure beheld his father at about eighteen years old and realized that this sturdy, strong, and good looking young man was his father “before the years got to him!”

 

Writing G.I. Joe and Lillie brought me face to face for a little while with the young versions of my father and my mother. I wrote the book in a third person style that allowed me to remove myself from the picture and, in so doing, I met a troubled young man who couldn’t understand his own father and ran off to “hell.” A fun loving and gritty, skinny yet sinewy, street kid who, with a rifle in his hand and an angel on his shoulder, helped to change the very face of the history of the world.

 

Yes, I remember stuff.

 

I remember as a small boy watching my dad do a half gainer into a somersault off a high diving board at Cedar Lake Park in New Jersey, when I couldn’t have even imagined climbing the ladder. I remember going to the plant with him at midnight when he was called in to fix some huge piece of machinery that only he could fix.

“Come with me boy, you might learn something.”

 

I remember watching him swim like Johnny Weismuller and climb a ladder quicker than a cat. He could drive a car and draw Bugs Bunny and talk like Donald Duck. I remember him making pancakes (about twice a year). I see him sitting next to me at the old Connie Mack Stadium at 51st and Lehigh, eating a hot dog and slugging down a few Ballantines, while hideously booing Johnny Callison (“can’t hit”) and Richie Ashburn (“a twerp”). He loved Robin Roberts, though. The Phillies never won much anyway, and they sure didn’t have much of a chance when he was in the stands.

 

Years later, I see him in a wheelchair sitting in the handicapped section of Veterans Stadium, booing Mike Schmidt in 1980 and Mitch Williams in 1993. I see him not able to speak. I see him weak and frail. I see him in the “Soldiers Home,” and I see him lying in a casket... small and thin... with a flower arrangement from the President of the United States towering over his casket.

 

I will admit to having an up-and-down relationship with my father. I always felt that Mom understood me, and that he did not. In reality, his constant chiding worked in a positive way for me.

 

“I’ll show him,” I would think. “I will leave these streets behind someday and be Elvis....”

Well, I didn’t do that. But when that man would watch me sing on a big stage with The Oak Ridge Boys, he would smile the whole time while fighting back tears of joy. My daddy was proud of me. What more could a son ask?

I always wanted to be better at being a “daddy” than he did. God in Heaven knows that I love my two daughters with all of my heart. They have both grown into wonderful and beautiful women, and I would hope that my love and support have had a little to do with it.

 

But, you know, in retrospect my own father did just fine—considering the tools and time that he possessed. Daddy only had until age 39. From there on he needed more care than he was able to give. But give he did. The man loved his son, and he came to love Jesus Christ.

 

I am thankful for him. His strong and manly embrace was always soothing to me, and he made me feel protected. Even as an old man, he would put the good arm around me, hold on as hard as he could—and weep.

So then... what more can a man ask of his father? A man who worked hard, loved his family, and faced a tough row to hoe his entire life. Yet he still found enough time... to change the history of the world.

 

I pray that God will gather him up and cradle him deep within His everlasting arms on this Fathers Day.

~ Joesph S. Bonsall… Junior

 

 

 

 

 

MOLLY MAE
by Joseph S. Bonsall

 

“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart” Jeremiah. 1:9

 

There is a wonderful scene in Molly Book #1 where Molly asks the old wise Pumpkin kitty about the Better Place… The much older orange tabby explains to the kitten that the God of All Creatures has indeed prepared a place just for kitties where they live after they leave this earth.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Molly ponders this and thinks that it all sounds pretty good except “How could there EVER be a Better Place than right here in the HOME with Mother Mary, Honey Pumpkin, Omaha and Gypsy?”

 

Just like in the book our nephew Gabriel found the little kitten all alone and soaking wet on a Halloween night 18 years ago. Mary took her in and very quickly she became one with our humble home and has been a vital part of our lives ever since. She was special from the start… a bright light… a shining star.

 

We once to took a vacation to the Caribbean and Mary missed her so much that I almost had to bring her home. On a two weeks stay in Vegas I once wrote the aforementioned book about her that was later published as a series of four books by Ideals Childrens Books entitled MOLLY, THE HOME, OUTSIDE and BREWSTER.

 

As you can see above the books were incredibly illustrated by Erin Mauterer who really brought Molly and her friends to life. Many children came to know Molly and her friends and the books are passed down even today to newer generations of kids.

 

Molly sold over 100,00 books and those sales were responsible for starting the Joseph S and Mary Ann Bonsall Foundation which has aided animal shelters and cat adoption centers for well over 15 years. ALL of this… because of ONE magical little cat who as a kitten once walked into the bathroom as Mary came out of the shower and exclaimed, “Well GOOD GOLLY MISS MOLLY How are you doin?” She then named the little calico MOLLY!

 

Her formal name is actually Molly Mae Bonsall and she left us today for her new home in The Better Place.

 

Her will and spirit and magical humor will be missed but we will NEVER forget her. Can a little cat really bring that much love and blessings to a home? I assure you the answer is yes!

 

Mary and I will miss our little girl kitty more than you could imagine. As when any loved one departs this earth there leaves an abyss where they once lived and breathed.

 

In my latest book From My Perspective I write more about Molly and our kitties in the chapter called Our Molly and in my chapter called Musings On Heaven I reflect upon the distinct possibility that we will see our beloved animal friends in Heaven. Sound crazy? I don’t think so… Read the chapter…

 

In the meantime our Molly is now once again playing with Pumpkin and Omaha and Gypsy. I am sure that Yuri and Bud and Spooker and The Dude are nearby as well! I’ll bet they were happy to see her too!

 

Goodbye little Molly Mae. We love you so very much and we will miss you terribly but we WILL see you again!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tidbit…The RAINBOW PILLOW: In the book series Molly’s favorite possession ever is her rainbow pillow and pink mousey. The pink mousey vanished years ago but the pillow has been with her as long as we can remember. She has hunted it, loved on it and slept with it for well over sixteen years. I brought it home from the old Opryland Amusement Park in Nashville, which has not been around for ages. Even at the end Molly rested her head upon what we called Molly’s Rainbow… We did NOT bury it with her.  We wanted it for a keepsake. As Mary said, “She has a new rainbow pillow now. One that has not been washed and repaired a thousand times.”

We DID bury a MOLLY book with her though…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Painting of our Molly by artist Ellen Schumm

 

For more info on Joseph S and Mary Ann Bonsall Foundation visit http://www.josephsbonsall.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE SINGING, WRITING, HALF-BAKED BANJO PLAYER TURNS 71

 by Joseph S. Bonsall

 

Saturday, May 18th is my 71st birthday, and one has to ponder a bit where the years have gone . . . yet I am one who KNOWS where he has been and am quite certain where I am going.

 

My mind’s eye sees a bloody little kid running home to his mother after yet another lost fight. Oh, I won a few, but with every split open head or blackened eye, lessons were always learned. I learned how to outrun the bigger guys and went ahead and mixed it up with guys my own size with varying results. I wouldn’t change much of any of it. I grew up a bit tough and it has really served me well over these years.

 

I also see a little boy singing at church and in his bedroom and in the echoing halls of the El station at the corner of Kensington Avenue and Tioga Street.

 

I see a teenager accept Christ at an old-fashioned camp meeting in Medford, NJ. I see him working various jobs, from carrying groceries to short order cook to mail boy to a veterinarian’s assistant and a sugar salesman.

 

I see the Faith Four Quartet practicing in the basement by the coal heater on Jasper Street, gathered around a piano that my mother bought me.

 

I see myself playing second base for the Kensington Ramblers and wide receiver for the Lighthouse Boys Club Lions. I was an All Star until I got to high school and got creamed trying to make varsity, so I joined the choir instead!

 

I see my father having a debilitating stroke at age thirty-nine, and all of a sudden me becoming the ‘man’ of the house. It kept me from going to Viet Nam. I see my high school choir; my sister, Nancy, growing up; and Mommy sometimes holding down three jobs at once in order to make ends meet.

 

I see Daddy’s cars . . . Studebakers, Fords, Chevys. I see my own cars . . . a ‘59 Ford, a ‘59-Winged Monster Chevy, and a ‘63 Chevy. All of which I cracked up at one time or another. I was more like my daddy than I would have ever liked to admit in those days.

 

I see GIRLS. Susan Gehan and Linda Sidelsky. Donna Law and Sandra Kane and Jackie Van Mater, and other pretty girls with whom I never got to first base.

 

I see Joni Easton . . . my very first real love, who eventually broke up with me because I wanted to sing and not stay in Philly. I see my first wife, Barbara. A wonderful woman who was also not comfortable with my chosen profession, but while we were together, she gave me the greatest daughter in the world . . . my Jennifer!

 

I see a young man dreaming about singing in a great quartet one day and doing whatever it took to make that happen.

 

I see Mary sitting in the front row of an Oaks’ show in Freeport, IL, at the Masonic Temple, smiling up at me in early October of 1978. I fell head over heels as my mom would say. A torrid love affair and special attraction that has lasted to this present day. A blessing on every level that exists within the seemingly strange parameters that have been my life thus far. She STILL smiles at me.

 

Mary also brought another special life force into my life, another wonderful daughter Sabrina Sue. Sabrina came equipped with my first cat ever, Pumpkin. She would later give us two grandchildren, Breanne and Luke of which BRE has given us a GREAT Grandson, Chance who is already two years old!

 

We would eventually have a lot more kitties in our house as well because, as Mark Twain said, “Having a cat leads to having MORE cats!” Mr. Clemens was right, as usual!

 

I see myself singing with The Keystones. A cutting-edge little Gospel band that I would leave in October of 1973 to join the Mighty Oak Ridge Boys, who have made every dream I have ever dreamed come true—and THEN SOME!

 

I joined this group when I was twenty-five years old and, yes, I am turning seventy-one. That adds up to FORTY-SIX years of singing with Duane Allen, William Lee Golden, and Richard Sterban. I don’t know how life gets any better. Good health, great family, great friends, still singing songs, and a personal relationship with the God of this Universe through His Son Jesus Christ.

 

Allow me to reflect a bit on just one of those passing years . . . 1998! The year I turned fifty. Mary and I worked it out to purchase a 350-acre farm in Macon County, TN / Monroe County, KY as a second dwelling place (yes, the state line runs right through the property). The farm has been one of the greatest blessings of my life, and I thank God for it every day. We have owned this place for over twenty years now. There’s a lot of hard work out there and I love every second of it!

 

In 1998, my mom and dad left Jasper Street and moved into the Southeastern PA Veterans Center. A tough time for me. Almost as tough as it was to lose them both in 2001.

 

In 1998, my daughter Jennifer married Dan Stevens and, they are still together today and doing great. This makes a dad go “phew” for sure! I am very proud of them.

 

In 1998, Grandson Luke was born and here in 2019, as Pop Pop turns 71, he is going on 21 and has joined the US NAVY! I pray for him every day. I so love this boy

 

It seems like just yesterday a tiny little Breanne was running around the house wanting to “watch a moodie” while Luke was a little lump and, of course, it also seems like yesterday that Jennifer and Sabrina were little girls as well.

 

The Book of James tells us that our ‘life is a vapor that passes quickly’ and my vapor seems to be moving right on along.

 

Little Joey and high school. Joey and The Faith Four and Keystones. Joey and early Oak Ridge Boys. That Joey seems like quite a while ago, but not really. The earth is just spinning a little faster these days, it seems, and one day the last song will be sung, and the last word will be written, and the last banjo lick will be played (a happy day for some I am sure). However, when that time comes rest assured that I will be with Jesus. I will see old friends like Nana Gertrude Clark and Lo-Dee Hammock and June Carter Cash and Johnny and George and Barbara Bush and SO many others who have gone on before me. I will take my place in a rather full choir and sing a few songs for the angels while mommy and daddy cheer me on as they always have.  I will be on that far side bank waiting for YOU to get there.

 

I hope all of this is far off, though, because I would like to be singing for a long time to come down here, if that is His Will. Duane Allen and I once vowed that we would sing until we drop. Well, we are working on it!!!

 

Don’t ever feel bad for Ban-Joey. He has been blessed beyond deserving and is very thankful for every breath and every day.

 

SEVENTY-ONE?  Bring it!

 

THE STORY OF LT

by Joseph S. Bonsall

 

 

If you have read any of my bios or PR info sheets over the passing years you would have noticed that it is always mentioned that Mary and I have so many cats and we always list their names. The name LT has always been mentioned and here is his unique story…

 

A wild little feral kitty showed up outside of our humble abode almost eight years ago. He looked so much like our beloved Sally Ann that we panicked thinking that she might have gotten out somehow. When we realized that Sally was laying curled up safe and sound in her bed we looked out the window and stared at this rough looking little creature who was already in the process of backing away with every feline defensive mechanism in high gear.

Mary, as is her way started putting out food and water for the strange little visitor who became known for awhile as Sally Ann’s “doppelganger”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

One day as we were again admiring this little pinched face tough guy from afar Mary mentioned that he was such a Little Tyke and eventually LT became his name. In eight years we have never even touched this little guy although he has dined on our upper deck the whole time and occasionally sleeps in the sun within sight and has always managed to mark his territory with a nice healthy pee in the catnip plants.

 

Years ago when our Callie showed up in like fashion it was much the same. She was a beautiful little girl kitty that was seemingly abused and then dumped. It took years for Mary to get close enough to her to pet her and show her love. Callie NOW lives inside and is very happy but LT is another story.

 

Through the coldest winters and hottest summers he has managed to survive. There have been times he has disappeared for awhile and we have always feared the worst for the little fellow but then one day there he would be… keeping his distance but happy for the handout. I would get a call from Mary while on the road with the good news that LT was here today and somehow the thought would bring a smile and some inner comfort.

 

If he were a human he would be in Special Ops for certain but year after year of facing raccoons and foxes and dogs and other cats to say nothing of cars and trucks or bad food usually results in a bad ending. This is the price that is paid is for an outdoor cat no matter how tough he might be.

 

We have not seen him now for over three months so we obviously fear the worst for the little guy.

The sad part is that he just seemed so alone. But as you know there are those who choose to be alone and exist just fine but still… just once we would have loved to have held the little guy and petted him and let him know that we cared about him even though it might seem that most of the world did not.

 

We never knew where he came from or where he went when he would leave us. Perhaps he HAS a home somewhere and perhaps he is there now lying down beside a fireplace in a nice warm bed. Perhaps somewhere in his heart he thinks about those two humans who fed him when he was hungry and put out a place for him to rest while on his journey all the while peering at him through a window.

 

It would be nice if all of that were true but Mary and I are pretty sure in our hearts that our rugged little slow walking pinched faced little LT has journeyed beyond us to The Better Place.

 

So goodbye Little Tyke… We DID love and admire you so very much. God please take care of this little fellow. Someone up there PLEASE pick him up and pet him for a while and assure him that he is loved! We have ALWAYS loved him!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

JOE AND MARY'S KITTIES

by Joseph S. Bonsall

 

Just like songs there is a story behind every kitty

 

We start with our queen… SALLY ANN

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sally is a sweet little tiger that has been with us now for 18 years. She is our only kitty who was here during The Molly era sharing our home with Molly, Gypsy, Pumpkin and Omaha, the four kitties made famous by my Molly The Cat book series. Sally Ann was born under a porch 40 miles north of Norman Oklahoma and the man who found her all alone (her mom must have passed away) took her to an Animal Shelter in Norman. On the day the Oak Ridge Boys played the State Fair I did a book signing in Oklahoma City and the Second Chance Shelter brought several cats to the signing. The smallest one was Sally Ann who was named Armond at the time. They thought she was a boy. Well long story short I couldn’t stop thinking about this kitten so the next week as I was back in Tulsa for another Fair two ladies from Second Chance drove the little kitty 125 miles and gave her to me to take home on the tour bus. Mary said I could bring the kitten home so I did. I named the kitten Boomer Sooner and when the bus arrived in Hendersonville I took it to the Vet for a checkup and found out the kitten was a she not a he so when I got her home Mary named her Sally Ann not even realizing that the two wonderful ladies who brought her to me in Tulsa were both named Sally!

So our little queen is getting old now but as of this writing she is in good health and we love her even more today then we did on that day she arrived from Oklahoma.

 

TED (Theodore Eugene Bear) Ted E Bear

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After we bought our farm in 1998 one of our neighbors cat had a porch load of kittens. Mary and I found homes for them all and then several months later the porch was full of kittens yet again. We found the mother and had her fixed and then once again gathered up all the kittens and took them home. There was one little gray one that looked like a little bear and I really wanted to keep him. After finding homes for all of his brothers and sisters the little Teddy Bear moved in with us. To say he been a challenge over all of these years would be an understatement. In his younger days he was the most destructive cat we have ever had. He broke a lot of expensive collectibles and he just did NOT play well with others. Ted probably should have been an only cat and he has tried our patience with misbehavior to the point that Mary once yelled “Joseph Take this cat out to the farm and shoot him!” Obviously she didn’t mean it because Ted is still here. Thankfully he has mellowed in his older age and except for being the loudest mouth in the house he has become a wonderful and loving kitty. He still stays to himself for the most part and he can also actually growl like a dog, which is really something to behold but our home would seem mighty empty without our Ted. But man does he owe us a lot of money!

 

BAYBE’ (The Big Eyed Wonder Girl)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Everyone in the world knows that Joe and Mary Bonsall are cat people and from time to time someone has gone through great pains to drop an unwanted cat somewhere around our house with the hopes that we might eventually find it and either find a home or take it in. This happened years ago with Gypsy and this is also how Baybe’ came to us. A neighbor walking by the house found the little girl kitty shivering in our drainpipe and brought her to Mary. We named her Baybe’ with the accent on the be’ as if she was born in The French Quarter in New Orleans and after taken her to the Vet we found out that she had a hole in the ventricular wall of her heart and might just live for a few years at the most. Well we sure couldn’t give here away and she was such a sweetheart that we kept her and twelve years later her defective heart still beats and she is still with us. (We even took her to The University of Tennessee Vet Center for treatment and it has paid off) She is a beautiful cat and she does love her daddy and that is a bonus for me. Mary always says that there is not a bad bone in her body and that is so true. We love our big eyed wonder girl even though her heart still sounds a bit like a small machine shop.

 

BLACKIE…  (The mighty BLACKSTER)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Blackie is our only cat that lives outside although he comes inside quite often and then goes back out and then comes in and then goes out. He just showed up one day and stayed. What a fun cat he is. He guards the perimeter of our domain like a little black tank and helps Mary in the garden every spring. He is tough and tender at the same time and he so much fun to watch. He is not named Blackie because he is black but more after Clark Gable’s Blackie character in several old movies. Mary says he is a little cad like the Blackie in the movies and so the name stuck. Being an outdoor kitty can be a rough life but Blackie seems to revel in that life and when he comes inside as he does dozen of times a day he makes himself right at home with the other cats. We love our mighty BLACKSTER!

 

SUNNY (The Sunny Bunny) (50 Shades of Orange) SUNTINO…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our daughter Sabrina was visiting folks way out in the country and she heard them talking about this poor orange kitten that was emaciated and tick infested and a few good ole boys decided to put the thing out of its misery by shooting it. Sabrina called Mary who ordered her to pick up that cat right now and take it to our Veterinarian and she would meet them there. Obviously the poor kitten was administered to and then adopted by Mary and I and has become a wonderful addition to our home. We think that Sunny has some Maine Coon in him for he is now big and furry. Did I say big? He has come a long way from his rough kitten hood and he still has a mental problem or two as a result but overall he gone from being The Big Kitten who was almost put out of his misery to our beautiful Sunny Bunny. As a side note I tried to get him to run for President representing The Feline Party and even had buttons made however he just would NOT campaign!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CROCKET … The Crocket doodle do Sir CROCKALOT

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We were hiking several years ago in the woods behind my sister in law Diane’s house when our nephew Gabriel thought he heard some sounds and saw some movement in the hollow of an old Oak Tree. He was right. There were three kittens in there and Diane suspected that they belonged to Rose a lovely girl who adopted Diane awhile back and took up residence on her back porch. It is amazing how many cats come to us seemingly out of the blue. Gabe was also the same one who found Molly in the rain many years ago and brought her to us as chronicled in the first paragraph of my book… MOLLY!

Well, we raised all three kittens and when they got old enough we gave the little girl named Lucy to my singing partner Richard Sterban, Diane kept the little boy Olive and we kept the champagne colored handsome little fellow who we named Davy Crocket which eventually shortened to just Crocket. Lucy is still doing well as is our Crocket but Olive mysteriously passed away early one evening. We never really knew why. Perhaps it was something congenital but it was so very sad to loose him like that.

The Crocket kitty is one handsome fellow and he is a constant joy every single day.

Here is a picture of the three kittens that Mary and Diane raised. Olive on the far left, Lucy in the middle and The Crocket kitten on the far right.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

MITTY (Mitt, The Mitty Kitty)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Talk about a wonderful and beautiful cat and you immediately visualize our youngest kitty son Mitty. I just love this cat and he has an interesting story as well. So I am working at my farm and I get a call from my singing partner William Lee Golden and he had quite the dilemma. His son Solomon had always wanted an orange kitty and William found one for him at last. The problem though was that Solomon was allergic to the little kitten they had named Buttercup and Golden just didn’t know what to do. He wondered if Mary and I could help so I called Mary and she told me to go by Golden’s house and pick up the kitten and perhaps we could find a nice home for him. Well as you can imagine we fell in love with this wonderful and beautiful kitten and renamed him Mitty. The nice home we found for him was our own and now we have seven cats. We had vowed that Crocket would be the last one but little Mitty was and still is so special that we couldn’t imagine him not being here. I even talked him into being Sunny’s running mate a few years ago but I could not get him to campaign either. We LOVE our MITTY!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mark Twain once said that a house may still be a home without a cat but how could it prove its worth. Mr. Clemens also said that having a cat leads to having MORE cats and yes this is true. Every cat that has ever shared our lives has been so very special and so very different one from the other. They are like watching pieces of art whether sleeping, walking, running or puking on your manuscript and Mary and I love them all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

IN MEMORY

 

MOLLY, PUMPKIN, OMAHA, GYPSY LEE, BUD, CALLIE, MISS KITTY, LITTLE TYKE, TED AND YURI

 

In Memorium: We lost our sweet Teddy today on Tuesday September 29, 2015

Rest easy in that Better Place Teddy.. We miss you and love you dearly… Goodbye Handsome Boy…

 

 

We lost our precious Blackie due to congestive heart failure…

He was just ten years old… He was a GREAT kitty

PROLOGUE: A PHENOMENON

“Living Our Dreams”

An excerpt from On The Road With The Oak Ridge Boys

by Joseph S. Bonsall

 

When I was first approached about writing another book about the Oak Ridge Boys, I wasn’t really sure whether I could take it on. Writing is an all consuming art, and although I’ve managed to write quite a few books over the years, this task seemed daunting.

 

Several years ago I wrote my heart out about the Oak Ridge Boys in a coffee-table book called An American Journey. I thought that book was the whole story. But my wife, Mary, inspired me to keep writing about the group, and I’m not sure she even realizes it.

 

It was a summer afternoon, and I had to leave early that evening for a concert at a big Midwestern state fair. Normally we’d leave at around midnight, but Darrick Kinslow, our tour director, set the departure time for six p.m. to give us plenty of time to arrive in Somewhereville, USA, to get set up and prepare for the huge grandstand show the next day.

 

Mary and I decided to eat dinner out early. We picked one of our favorite places, which just happened to be right across the road from our offices and the gathering point for our departure. We drove there separately so she could head for home after dinner and I could drive over to our parking lot, grab my stuff, and board the bus. As I remem- ber, it was to be a four-day trip.

 

After dinner, Mary and I sat together in her truck in the restaurant parking lot and watched the constant activity across the street. The two big black Prevost tour buses had started and were now on high idle. Band guys and crew guys were arriving. Some arrived by themselves while others were dropped off by family members or friends. The life of the road musician leaving home was being played out right there in that parking lot, and it was exciting to watch it unfold.

 

I was just about to tell Mary goodbye when she turned to me and said something I’ve never forgotten. With teary eyes and a halt in her voice, she said, “You know, hon...that’s a phenomenon going on over there. You guys are a phenomenon! It’s so hard to believe you all are still out there performing at such a high level...it’s just a phenomenon.”

 

After her voice trailed off, she regained her composure, kissed me, and added, “Now get going. You’re never the last one on the bus!”

 

We both laughed, and I watched as she drove away in her big, white Silverado pickup, back home to a houseful of cats and, as usual, no hus- band for the next several days.

 

You have to realize that Mary Ann Bonsall never says much about the Oak Ridge Boys. Singing is what I do and what I’ve always done, so for me to get on the bus and leave home is a natural part of our lives. But this particular evening seemed a little different somehow. Mary doesn’t give props every day, so I must admit my heart was warmed as I parked my own truck and boarded the bus with a few shoulder bags, my laptop, and four days’ worth of clean laundry and stage wear (clean jeans and some cool shirts).

 

As is usually the case, I greeted and was greeted back warmly by two of my fellow Oaks, Duane Allen and Richard Sterban. Then our fourth member, William Lee Golden, pulled into the lot, so I was indeed not the last one to board the big bus—our rolling home away from home.

 

I threw my stuff into my designated area on the back couch, hung my clothes in my closet, and decided that even though it was early I would crawl in my bunk and get some sleep. I had worked hard on my farm the past few days, and I was tired. My stomach was full as well, so I settled in, pulled the covers up to my chin, and just lay there for a while.

 

I could hear the guys laughing and cutting up in the front lounge. Richard already found a baseball game on the TV in the back lounge, and Darrick, or DK as we call him, was already on the phone, talking to tomorrow’s promoter. Our driver pulled away from the office, the other bus full of band and crew followed, and suddenly we were off. Buses on the move...time to ride...time to sing again. It has never got- ten old—no, not once!

 

Leaving home is always hard though, and as we rolled through the early Tennessee evening I felt myself drifting off into a wonderful and much-needed sleep. I could still hear Mary’s voice echoing, “You guys are a phenomenon...a phenomenon...”

 

Her words made me realize there really is still a lot more to write about the Oak Ridge Boys.

THE COUNTRY MUSIC HALL OF FAME BOYS

by Joseph S. Bonsall

 

I so wanted to write about this when things settled down and got back to normal, but I have come to the conclusion that we may NEVER get back to normal. The paradigm has changed. The Oak Ridge Boys are going into The Hall and it boggles my mind and humbles my heart. To paraphrase what you will read in my new book On The Road With The Oak Ridge Boys, “I have always hoped that someday this would happen… I only pray that we are still breathing oxygen when it does.”

 

Well, it has and we ARE still breathing atomic #8. The stars aligned, God smiled, and the Country Music Association’s secret committee that decides such things deemed us worthy of induction into this sacred Hall in downtown Nashville. It is a place of history and music and dreams and immortality.

 

Long after we are gone… we will STILL be HERE along side of our heroes and friends. It is a place where ‘the circle will NEVER be broken’ and now Joe Bonsall, Duane Allen, William Lee Golden, and Richard Sterban will reside within that circle as brothers forever with our faces sculptured almost as one. Like the creed of the Musketeers of old, it is All for One and One for ALL… As it has always been and will always be. Four individuals linked together on one plaque for generations to behold. We could have never realized this pinnacle of recognition of accomplishment if not for each other, and so shall it be!

 

I wish our parents were alive to have seen this happen. I wish friends like Jim Fogelsong and Sherman Halsey and Don Light were here, as well, although I am certain in my heart that they know and that they are very proud and happy for us. My mother has surely told everyone in Heaven by now.

 

As I said in my induction speech, “This is Cooperstown. This is Canton. This is Cleveland. This is NASHVILLE!” This is the epitome of one’s life and career.

 

The CMHOF is where Country Music royalty resides and now four little boys from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; Taylortown, Texas; Brewton, Alabama; and Camden, New Jersey, who all dreamed of singing songs in harmony, will be enshrined. Dreams do come true, my friends. It just takes a lot of years and hard work, and a willingness to sail on even when the tides and winds are not kind.

 

I can see a little Joey singing for the neighbors and in church. I see him spending hours in his bedroom listening to music and putting on shows in front of the mirror. I see the years of sacrifice and struggle, yet all of the while I see in him a total happiness that comes from the sheer joy of singing behind a microphone and being surrounded by love, harmony, and friendship.

 

I see him as a young Oak Ridge Boy in 1978, clutching a CMA Vocal Group of the Year award in his arms all night long. (Yes I’ll admit… I slept with it.) I see miles of aisles and stages and highways and hotels, and now I see him as part of the unbroken circle. The highest honor that has EVER been bestowed upon The Oak Ridge Boys.

 

I was 25 when I joined this group in 1973, and I am now about to turn 67. Thanks to the grace and constant blessings of my Lord and Savior I am still singing today, and I can in no way visualize an ending. When someone asked me what we do after all of this, I simply replied, “We sing!” That is what we do. That is why we are now in The Hall.

 

So many people out there in the social sphere keep lamenting the time frame. “What took so long?” “It’s about time!” etc. My friends, the time frame is not important! What matters… is what matters! We are HERE! We are thankful, blessed, and humbled beyond words.

 

Sometime in October of this year the official induction ceremony will take place. We will be honored by peers and receive our medallions, and the sculptured plaque will be unveiled. It will be placed on the wall inside the circle of the rotunda. Everyone is equal in the Hall according to Director Kyle Young.

 

Thank you to all of you who have loved and supported us over all of these years. None of this happens without you, and one more time, thank you, Country Music Association, for this immeasurable honor. Generations in the future will come here and read and learn about The Oak Ridge Boys. Our children’s children’s children can see us enshrined forever here.

 

Even after we are gone … we will STILL be HERE!

 

Addendum: I urge you to visit the Country Music Hall of Fame in Nashville, Tennessee. It is such a wonderful place. It has grown and grown, and there is so much here to see and so much to learn as well. It is just beautiful, and thanks to some of the great artists of today, like Taylor Swift and Keith Urban, and the support of so many others The Hall thrives and moves forward. Make plans to bring the family to town and see this wonderful beacon of light and music.

MUSIC CITY MUSINGS

by Joseph S. Bonsall

Written for Gateway Magazine

 

Nashville, Tennessee … a great place to live … a great place to visit.

 

Our town is usually at the top of every destination wish list, and there are lots of reasons for this. Let us start with the music. The Grand Ole Opry is HERE. The Mother Church of Country Music: The Ryman Auditorium is HERE! The stunning Country Music Hall of Fame and educational center is HERE. Music Row is HERE! Record labels, recording studios, and the best songwriters in the world are all HERE!

 

Schermerhorn Symphony Center is HERE. The Tennessee Performing Arts Center is HERE! Bridgestone Arena is HERE! CMA Fest, one of the largest music festivals in the world, is right HERE! Nashville is also home to the Country Music Association, and their televised award shows and specials all originate out of Nashville.

 

Yes, we call it Music City for a reason. On any given night one can visit a number of music showcase clubs, from the famous Bluebird Café to the EXIT/IN, Station Inn, 3rd and Lindsley, and from 12th and Porter to the Wildhorse Saloon. You can hear up and coming country and rock & roll artists, and songwriting talent galore. As well, every major music act touring today makes a stop at our Bridgestone Arena. And an obvious point of fact is that many major country stars of today, along with many of our living legends, reside right here in Middle Tennessee.

 

However, Nashville is much more than just music.

 

Civil war history abounds in the nearby cities of Franklin and Gallatin. Historic homes, trails, traces, and battlefields can be found all over Middle Tennessee. Presidential history abounds as well. The Hermitage, which is the home of Old Hickory himself, President Andrew Jackson, is HERE! Museums like the Frist Center for the Visual Arts, Belle Meade Mansion, and the Cheekwood Botanical Garden and Museum of Art are HERE! There are many huge cultural events including the Nashville Film Festival that alone draws thousands to Nashville each year.

 

The Nashville Zoo is also here, and at the time of this writing two endangered clouded leopards have just been born there.

 

The new convention center, as well as the Gaylord Opryland Hotel and complex, coupled with many other great hotels and top restaurants that now exist, make our city a very attractive draw each year for all kinds of corporate and big time sporting events. We host NCAA men’s basketball tournaments and our own Franklin Mortgage MUSIC CITY BOWL, which has become one of the premier college football games of the year.

 

Did I say SPORTS? Nashville is the home of the NFL Tennessee Titans and the NHL Nashville Predators, as well as the triple AAA Nashville Sounds, whose brand new state- of-the-art stadium is the talk of the town!

 

Local college sports are a huge part of the fabric, as well. How about Southeastern Conference basketball and football, and national championship baseball, all played at Vanderbilt University, as well as some legendary basketball at Belmont! Add Tennessee State U and MTSU up the road, and you pretty much have a top tier SPORTS TOWN here!

 

Nashville is also a great medical city. Vanderbilt Children’s Hospital, the Sarah Cannon Cancer Center, and the Francis Williams Preston Lab are among the best in the world at what they do. Hospitals like Centennial and Saint Thomas and Skyline are also top tier treatment and trauma centers, and some of the finest doctors and surgeons in the world operate here. (No pun intended.)

 

I moved to Middle Tennessee from the Northeast in 1973, when I joined The Oak Ridge Boys. I was twenty-five years old. CMA Fest was known as Fan Fair. There were just two five-star restaurants and a handful of hotels in town. And, except for the Opry, most tourist attractions were, at best, a bit cheesy in my humble opinion.

 

I have been singing here now for forty-two years, and I am about to turn 67. I have watched the Nashville skyline change and grow for four decades, and it is has all been quite amazing to behold.

 

I used to think I could move back north anytime, but I assure you it would take a burning bush experience and a team of wild horses to drag Joe Bonsall from Middle Tennessee. I LOVE Nashville and all it has to offer. I feel at home here. The Oak Ridge Boys are now inductees into the Country Music Hall of Fame, and we will play the big stage at LP Field during this year’s CMA FEST. I assure you there is no town like MY town… NASHVILLE, TENNESSEE… MUSIC CITY USA!

 

So come on down and see us, ya hear?

Interview with Joe Bonsall For The American Legion Magazine

 

The Oak Ridge Boys – the iconic and unabashedly patriotic quartet known for fusing gospel, country and rock at a time when crossover tunes like their hit song “Elvira” were revolutionizing the American pop music scene in the ’70s and ’80s – have roots that run deeper than the 40-plus years this particular foursome has been together under one name.

 

The group originally known as the Oak Ridge Quartet started performing near the end of World War II. Based in Knoxville, Tenn., where the atomic bomb that ended the war in the Pacific was being developed, the quartet had made enough of a name for itself to land regular bookings at Nashville’s Grand Ole Opry by the fall of 1945. Over the years, more than 30 different singers performed under the Oak Ridge name, and Time magazine featured the group in the mid-1950s as one of the nation’s top-drawing gospel acts.

 

All that happened before the current set of Oaks got together. But legacy matters greatly to the Grammy-winning performers, who still tour almost continuously and last spring released a new live album, Boys Night Out.

William Lee Golden, of flowing beard and subterranean baritone, was first among the current group to join the Oaks. His arrival in 1965 was followed by that of Duane Allen in 1966. Richard Sterban joined in 1972 and Joe Bonsall in 1973.

 

They credit shared values, faith and love of music to the continuing success of the group, which has had more than 30 Top 10 singles, 12 gold records, three platinum albums, one double platinum album and a double-platinum single.

 

The Oak Ridge Boys were recently named celebrity spokesmen to help raise awareness about assistance The American Legion provides for veterans and their families.

 

Bonsall, also an author and the son of World War II veterans, recently spoke with The American Legion Magazine.

 

Wholesome, patriotic values aren’t always a script for success in today’s music industry. Why do they work for The Oak Ridge Boys?

 

I think a lot of it has to do with our upbringing. All four of us were taught from childhood to tell the truth, to work hard, to honor God and to respect those who have paid the price for our freedoms. I am not really sure what works for other artists. There are many roads to success. But what matters to me is how we do things.

 

The current lineup of the band recently celebrated 40 years of performing together and 41 million records sold. How have you held this act together over the years?

 

I am writing a new book right now on The Oak Ridge Boys that will be released in the spring of 2015, and in the writing I have tried to dig deep and explore this answer. All of the stock answers are very true. We are living out our dreams. We love what we do. We have never even been able to plan on how to slow down, let alone stop. But I think the river runs deeper than that. We are a part of history, and none of us wants to see that end. It is in our DNA to keep being The Oak Ridge Boys until God tells us it is time to quit. As long as He provides the health and the good vocals, I say we will sing until we drop.

 

Appreciation for military sacrifice runs through much of your music. What kind of personal connections do you have with those who served?

 

Actually, we have many. My dad and mom both served in World War II, so I have grown up with the flag waving at my house every single day. The other guys have family members and dear friends who have served as well. We all love our military, and we are very thankful for the sacrifices they have made and are making today all around the world.

 

When you think about military men and women coming home from wartime service today, what do you think they need most?

 

Recently, the Department of Veterans Affairs has been going through a lot of failure and change, and many of our returning veterans with various needs have fallen through the cracks. This cannot stand. The physical and mental needs of our kids coming home from wars today are staggering, and I think they deserve to be cared for and looked after more than ever before.

 

It’s common for you to support values-driven organizations such as Boy Scouts of America, Habitat for Humanity, the National Anthem Project and the Legion. With so many groups asking to share your talents, how do you decide?

 

I have heard Duane Allen say that we can affect people in one of three ways: positively, negatively or not at all. The Oaks choose the positive, so when we are presented with an opportunity to serve in some capacity we always say yes. Of course we can’t fit in everything that comes our way, but we try when the organization is special and doing great works.

 

You have also performed for five U.S. presidents. What does that mean to you?

 

I think any time that we have performed for a president it has been a very special honor for us. Our friendship with George and Barbara Bush has been especially meaningful to us. We have been singing for No. 41 since he was vice president in 1982. We still sing for him today. Knowing these patriots has made us all better Americans.

 

Almost everyone has a personal connection, as well, to The American Legion. When you think of the Legion, what comes to mind?

 

The way the Legion looks after our veterans. It is an honor to be associated with our American Legion. They are relevant and cutting-edge when it comes to dealing with returning vets who have slipped through those cracks, and they are also leading the charge in helping to fix VA, which we really need right now. I am thankful that The American Legion exists, and I hope that The Oak Ridge Boys can help bring some attention to the work they are doing right now, especially identifying and dealing with the post-traumatic stress affecting so many of our returning warriors.

 

What compelled you to write the book “GI Joe and Lillie,” about your parents’ relationship?

 

Well, the song came first, and after I wrote the song I wrote a small story based on the song. We turned it in to “Chicken Soup for the Veteran’s Soul,” and they turned it down. My associate Kathy Harris, who knew my parents quite well, would not let it go, so she pitched it around some more. New Leaf Press was interested, but they wanted a longer story for perhaps a gift book. I made it longer, and they called for a meeting. They told me that the country was in dire need of a story like this, and could I write a book? So I said yes and went to work.

 

As a side note, my mom wrote down a lot of things over the years. She always believed that her and Daddy’s story needed to be told. I told her on her deathbed that I would write the book, and it is such a blessing that it all worked out. After she passed, my sister Nancy found all of these memoirs of hers, and I utilized most of them in one way or the other. To me, this is Lillie’s book, and her voice and her story has now been heard. This would have made her very happy.

 

What is the bigger message of the book?

 

Love, loyalty and service. Even after Daddy had a debilitating stroke, my mom never gave up on him. She dedicated her life to him and us kids. I mean prayerful and total dedication. She was very inspiring to everyone who knew her.

You followed that up with “From My Perspective,” another book with a big message. Can you explain some of that and how faith has guided your muse?

 

I cannot write for the sake of writing. I think the work should inspire on some level, and I think that God should be honored. “From My Perspective” is a cool little collection of stories about music, faith, veterans and even some humor, but I hope that when people read my writings Jesus and His love and guidance always shine through.

I am just now finishing a new book for spring of 2015 titled “On the Road with The Oak Ridge Boys.” It is an inside look at the group, and it is very fresh and actually a lot of fun. My goal is still to inspire, and I think I have achieved this.

 

There’s a hungry market for music and books about faith, family, patriotism and wholesome values. Why do you think more artists and writers don’t consider that audience?

 

Well, I know of many that do, but as you say, many do not. Everyone is different, and everyone’s pathway turns down a different side road from time to time. For me, I have to follow my heart, and my heart always tells me to do things that my mom would be proud of. I may fall short from time to time, but I assure you I am always trying to do things right.

The Tomato Sauce Incident

by Joseph S. Bonsall

 

So the other night, my gourmet-cooking wife, Mary, outdid herself by making homemade meatballs and a tomato sauce that would have put Chef Emeril, or even Clemenza, to shame. I actually ate two huge meatball sandwiches, complete with an Italian six-cheese mix that complimented the meatballs in spectacular fashion.

 

As we dined, our conversation turned to Mary’s flowers and such. I was lamenting the quick springtime rites of passage, such as the vanishing of her wall of bridal wreaths and her many azaleas that make our home look like The Masters of Augusta. Daffodils and tulips and dogwood blossoms are already a thing of the past. But I had noticed earlier that her white peonies were starting to bloom and it made her happy that I noticed.

 

“Did you see the cool black iris as you came into the driveway?” She asked.

 

Well, no. I had NOT noticed the iris at the end of the drive. So after cleaning up the table she led me out to see them. And, yes, they were indeed quite beautiful. One flower perishes and others bloom in their place. For each of us, there is a time and a season, and as I brought forth this diatribe we were joined by a neighbor from across the way.

 

There are only two families who have lived in our neighborhood longer then we have, and this was one of them. We moved into our home in 1982, and our neighbor has been here since 1973, the year I moved to Hendersonville to join The Oak Ridge Boys.

 

Well, we chatted on and on, as neighbors do, and suddenly I noticed a goodly amount of tomato sauce on Mary’s cheek. Well, it struck me so funny I near laughed out loud, but there was more to this dilemma. Do I say something? Do I ignore it hoping the neighbor had missed it? We had been chatting for well over fifteen minutes now. How could he NOT?

 

I again almost laughed out loud, yet I kept my cool. Still, deep inside I was doubled over, rolling on the aggregate.

 

Our little meeting around the black iris broke up, and Mary and I headed back to the house. Oh, man, I couldn’t wait. “So, hon, the whole time we were chatting with the neighbor you had this chunk of tomato sauce on your cheek.”

 

I then laughed so hard I nearly passed out.

 

“Okay, smartass, go look in the mirror. I was going through the same thought pattern, thinking, ‘Do I tell him or not?’”

 

Now it was Mary who was on the floor, for there in both corners of my mouth were huge deposits of VERY noticeable tomato sauce.

 

I’ll bet the neighbor across the street was ALSO laughing his behind off. And who could blame him?

 

I know this is a ‘you had to be there kind of story,’ but trust me, we have not heard the last of The Tomato Sauce Incident. I am laughing as I type.

 

I need another sandwich.

 

FLY HIGH … ERIC HALL

by Joseph S Bonsall

 

“Never take anyone for granted. If you love them, tell them you love them. Just realize that in a heartbeat…in an instant…in an eye blink, they could be gone. No man or woman is guaranteed the next second, so make every second count while you and your loved ones and friends are still here.”

Excerpt From: Joseph S. Bonsall. “On the Road with The Oak Ridge Boys.”

 

Yes this quote comes from the end of my chapter about our too soon departed friend and brother Sherman Halsey and every once in awhile it rings true once again. Such is the case this past weekend with the loss of our long time friend Eric Hall.

 

At the end of my book I have a tribute section to those young people around the country who love and know more about the Oak Ridge Boys then we do ourselves. I refer to them as Oak Ridge Boys Scholars and yes Eric is most certainly included.

 

Eric was a Kentucky boy who moved to middle Tennessee awhile back to go to work at Loretta Lynn’s ranch. This was a dream job for Eric because he loved Loretta as much as he did The Oaks. The only thing he loved more then traditional country music was his Kentucky Wildcats basketball team. He was as deeply entrenched in The Big Blue Nation as anyone else out there that bleeds Kentucky Blue. He was thrilled when The Boys performed our National Anthem at the Southeastern Conference Final game where the Wildcats prevailed over Arkansas. It was the best of both worlds for Eric.

 

Eric has never missed a show at Renfro Valley and he has been coming to see us at The Kentucky State Fair since he was a young boy.

 

I follow him on Twitter and his next to the last tweet on Thursday indicated that he was going to The Ryman to hear us sing on The Grand Ole Opry stage and that this was his first time to ever visit the Mother Church. It had to have been a big night for him. I just wished I had seen him Thursday.

 

How could anyone have known that the very next night while driving home from downtown Nashville some guy would screw up and take the wrong on ramp and speed on to Interstate 40 going the wrong way and immediately slam head on into Eric Hall. Both drivers were killed on impact. The Halls of Kentucky lost a son and ORBNation lost a dear friend… and scholar.

 

It is Sunday afternoon as I write this and I must tell you we are all devastated over this loss. Our message board at oakridgeboys.com is alive with thoughts on Eric’s passing. He spent a lot of time there chatting with like minds that also appreciated our group and our little songs.

 

We will all miss Eric Hall. He was a fine young man with a great sense of humor and he was just 34 years old.

 

My Bible tells me that The Secret Things… belong to the Lord so only God knows the why’s of such an event that plague our finite human minds.

 

Farther Along We’ll Know All About it and Farther Along We’ll Understand Why but for now we grieve.

 

We will see Eric once again… as is HIS promise!

 

So FLY HIGH… my brother… Until The Day… until the day!

 

​

 

 

 

 

 

 

NOT DEAD YET…

by Joseph S. Bonsall

 

At a recent gathering of Country legends and such in Nashville, I found myself sitting in a semicircle of old friends, like the Gatlin Brothers, Exile, Eddy Raven, the Bellamy Brothers, and that perennial favorite band, “Many Others.”

 

Old stories and memories were in abundance, and laughter literally filled the backstage dressings rooms of the Wildhorse Saloon. We had gathered there for a Vanderbilt Children’s Hospital benefit during CMA FEST. Most of us had toured together through the years, and we knew each other very well.

 

Toward the end of the evening, J.P. Pennington of Exile looked at me and said, “Man, look around, will ya. Why do you suppose we are all still singing?”

 

My answer. “Because we aren’t dead!”

 

Everyone laughed.

 

But in fact, right after I said that Mickey Gilley went on, and it took several guys to help him get to the stage. Mickey is now 79 years old and a bit frail. However, as soon as the band started to play, he NAILED The Girls All Get Prettier at Closing Time. He received a standing ovation for his effort. Mickey had almost died a few years ago, yet there he was… in full voice, rocking the house.

 

In my latest book, On the Road with The Oak Ridge Boys, I wrote a lot on the subject of retirement, and my overall conclusion is that we are singing songs for a living, so why in the world would we EVER want to stop doing that?

 

I often say in interviews, and in the book, that only bad health would stop The Oak Ridge Boys, and I believe this to be true. ‘Joe won’t be on the tour bus tonight because he is dead!’ Yep… that and ONLY that would do it, and I have many examples upon which to lean.

 

Who has ever retired from singing songs for a living? Trust me, it is a short list, and Tony Bennett and the Rolling Stones are NOT on it! Let’s see… Phil Collins, Bill Withers, Grace Slick? The Statler Brothers? Hmmmm…  That is all I can come up with at the moment.

 

Now, many have retired but came back. The woods are full of those acts to be sure. The name GARTH comes to mind, as does ALABAMA and even Barbra Streisand, and perhaps there are those who SHOULD retire. But, overall, most men and woman of music sing until they are dead, and that is a fact! Even King George Strait who rode off into the sunset just a year ago is about to release a new album and has announced concert dates in 2016… THAT didn’t take long!

 

The bottom line just may be that it is too hard to pull your hand out of the cookie jar. How blessed we are to live out our dreams and to sing songs or play music and make a good living at it. Who wants to stop doing that? Almost NOBODY does!

 

And this attitude is not confined to music folks either. I think if people love what they do then they want to keep doing it. A gold watch and a ride into the sunset sometimes proves to be just that. A person has to have something to do, in my humble opinion. How many times do you hear of a life shortened after retirement? ‘Old Sam just didn’t have anything to do anymore and died of boredom…’

 

But I digress here!

 

God has richly blessed me with a life of songs and friendship and love, and only Jesus controls when it all shall end. That is true of all of us folks, because the gift of life is so very precious so make the best of it… We are NOT dead YET!

 

 

DOMENICK SGRO

By Joseph S. Bonsall

 

I received word today that Dom Sgro passed away. I had seen him several years ago when his son brought him out to an Oaks’ show in western Pennsylvania. He was much older but still rather dapper. It had been so good to see him after so many years. The very sight of this man brought back many memories, and more than a few tears. I shed a few more this morning.

 

Most of my readers, and those who have followed my singing career, have no idea who this man was. My own family had little or no knowledge at all of Sgro and how much his friendship meant to me in the early days of my life. Please allow me to talk a bit about this great man and how God placed him in my life at just the right time.

 

The Reverend Domenick Sgro pastored a full Gospel Italian church in western PA for many years. My little Keystone Gospel band had a good following in what was known as the Christian Church of North America with a membership that was mostly Italian. The original Keystone Quartet had begun in one such church, and at one time all of its members were Italian except for a half Polish bass singer named Richard Sterban. (Yep… THAT Richard Sterban.)

 

After the Keystones changed and grew and settled in Buffalo, New York we could still count on many of these churches to take us in when we needed a date to play. And Brother Sgro never ONCE turned us down.

 

We would sing in his little church quite often and, although he paid as much as he could, it was never a whole lot. However, dinner and fellowship around the Sgro table was always well worth the trip. Home cooked Italian fare by Sister Sgro was to die for, and usually later in the evening Dom would break out his own homemade red wine, and he and I would sit up late together and chat and sip and pray. I loved those times. They are etched in my memory even now.

 

I would tell him about growing up in Philly, and he would talk about his days growing up in Pittsburgh. Then one night he shared a story with me. It seemed that Domenick Sgro was once involved with some very unsavory characters. He didn’t tell me a lot about it except to say that in his position, with all that he knew, it would be impossible for him to ever get away from these guys. Then the impossible happened. Dom accepted Jesus Christ as his personal Savior and his life changed.

 

He told me about how he went to these men and pleaded his case and asked out. He told them that with Christ he was a changed man and wanted to become a minister and one day pastor a church, and that he would cause them no trouble. They let him go! He was now a servant of the Lord and that’s all he would say about it.

 

Then a life challenging circumstance arrived for Joey Bonsall. One that was out of the blue and totally unexpected. I received a phone call one night from a man who invited me to dinner with some friends at a fancy restaurant in Niagara Falls. The man made sure it was understood that I MUST attend this dinner or there could be consequences. I was scared to death so I accepted the invitation.

 

Now in those days, Don Stefano Magaddino was the western New York crime boss and sat at the head of the Cosa Nostra mafia commissione. The men I dined with that night were his family, and they had an offer for me. I had just read Mario Puzo’s novel The Godfather, long before the movie came out, and I could not believe this was happening.

 

These men knew that our old Keystone bus crossed the Canadian border many times, and they wanted me to carry certain packages that could be easily hidden on the bus. They asked me how much money I made singing, and I told them around $150.00 a week on most weeks.

 

They laughed and said I would be making much, much more. I tried to say no, but they would not hear of it. They said we would meet again to hammer out more details.

 

I went back home and called the Reverend Domenick Sgro, and Dom told me not to worry, that he would make a few calls and that I would never hear from those people again. He was right. I went on with my little singing career and several years later I joined The Oak Ridge Boys. I was NEVER again approached by Magaddino’s men, or even Don Corleone for that matter.

 

So Dominick Sgro died today… a good man… an influencer… a man who stood at a crossroads in my life when I really needed him.

 

“Anything you ever need, I don’t care what it might be, you call me… I love you, Joe Bonsall… God’s hand is upon you and so is mine!”

 

Rest easy, Dom Sgro… I will never forget you! Until the day… (JSB)

 

Photo by Darrick Kinslow

 

 

 

 

Childhood Christmas Memories

 

By Joseph S. Bonsall

of The Oak Ridge Boys

 

Every night during our massive, yearly Christmas tour about halfway through the show we roll out a beautiful fireplace and a Christmas tree complete with four Cracker Barrel Old Country Store© rocking chairs. Then all four Oak Ridge Boys sit and rock and chat about memories of Christmas past and sing a few favorite songs to the gathered crowd. It has become a very popular part of our Christmas show.

 

I always enjoy chatting about growing up in Philadelphia in a row house, where your wall is someone else’s wall. I talk about my World War II Veteran parents, who taught me about loving God and loving America. Daddy was a war hero and Mommy was Woman’s Army Corp… The Greatest Generation.

 

Each year I talk about different Christmas memories, but there is never enough time to reflect upon much more than the fact that my parents would always make Christmas morning special for me and my sister, Nancy. Whatever we asked for was always under the tree, although our family didn’t have a lot of means. The tree, the platform, the lights, the Lionel train, and the presents were there, because Mommy and Daddy worked extra jobs to provide for us. My mom would work THREE jobs in December just to pay for Christmas.

 

Because this is a written page and not the stage, I have a little more time to elaborate… For instance, every Thanksgiving my parents would take us kids to the Gimbals’ Thanksgiving Day Parade in Downtown Philly. It might have been ‘Macy’s lite,’ however Gimbals was also a big department store, and they went all out, as did Lit Brothers and John Wanamaker’s, who made their stores look like Disneyland.

 

My mom always told me that the Santa in the Gimbals’ parade was the REAL Santa and all others were his helpers. That included any Santa on the street and even the Macy’s Santa in New York! THEY were all helpers. The REAL Santa visited Philadelphia and at the end of the parade he would climb from his sleigh, up a fire truck ladder, and then vanish through a Gimbals’ window into the toy department. There he would hold court with thousands of children from Thanksgiving right through Christmas Eve. Santa climbing that ladder with his bag slung over his shoulder was one of the greatest sights a little Philly boy could witness, and I can still see it clearly in my mind’s eye.

 

Since I was fortunate enough to have the real Santa just a subway ride away from my house, I believed that when I asked him for a Rin Tin Tin Fort Apache set or a bow and arrow that I would receive it. And I always did.

 

We tried not to ask for much, as we were taught, but Santa always came through. One year Nancy asked for a Patty Play Pal doll and on Christmas morning there it was. She cried with joy for over an hour.

 

Thank you, Mommy and Daddy. Some Christmas memories will never fade.

 

I can still see the little manger scene lit by one white bulb, making it seem like Baby Jesus was lit more than Joseph or Mary or the animals. I can still see the angel at the top of the tree all lit up in red. It was the same angel every year. I loved that angel. It was also the same lights and balls every year. Only the tinsel was new, and my mother was very generous with the tinsel. Thank God it was fireproof because it was everywhere!

 

I see the platform that Daddy built and would put up on Christmas Eve. I never knew how he got that thing out of the cellar on his own, but he did. He would put an entire miniature city, complete with people and buildings and a train and a tunnel, on that platform. It was wondrous!

 

They did it all on Christmas Eve while we slept. When we went to bed, the living room was as it always was. But when Nancy and I came down the stairs the next morning, it was all as if a magic wand had been waved. A complete transformation.

 

After Daddy had a stroke, when I was around fifteen, he spent several years in VA Hospitals (see my book G.I. Joe and Lillie). For his first Christmas at home, some of my buddies and I put up the old platform. It took four of us to get it upstairs! I remember him weeping like a baby over that platform.

 

The bottom line is this… When you see me onstage singing Christmas songs with The Oak Ridge Boys perhaps you will now realize how deep the river runs. I love Christmas. I have tried to make it just as magical for my family over all of these time’s passing. And for me it all goes back to Mommy and Daddy.

 

I will see them again one day as is His promise, and we will laugh and reminisce about those wonderful Christmas memories.

 

Merry Christmas, everyone… Remember that the same Jesus who was born in the manger on that First Christmas Day is the same Jesus that can solve your problems NOW. All you need is to BELIEVE in HIM… Then LEAN on HIM! Thank you, Lord, for parents like Joe and Lillie Bonsall! The Greatest Generation… We need more like them.

 

Childhood Christmas Memories

 

                                         By Joseph S. Bonsall of The Oak Ridge Boys

 

Every night during our massive, yearly Christmas tour about halfway through the show we roll out a beautiful fireplace and a Christmas tree complete with four Cracker Barrel Old Country Store© rocking chairs. Then all four Oak Ridge Boys sit and rock and chat about memories of Christmas past and sing a few favorite songs to the gathered crowd. It has become a very popular part of our Christmas show.

 

I always enjoy chatting about growing up in Philadelphia in a row house, where your wall is someone else’s wall. I talk about my World War II Veteran parents, who taught me about loving God and loving America. Daddy was a war hero and Mommy was Woman’s Army Corp… The Greatest Generation.

 

Each year I talk about different Christmas memories, but there is never enough time to reflect upon much more than the fact that my parents would always make Christmas morning special for me and my sister, Nancy. Whatever we asked for was always under the tree, although our family didn’t have a lot of means. The tree, the platform, the lights, the Lionel train, and the presents were there, because Mommy and Daddy worked extra jobs to provide for us. My mom would work THREE jobs in December just to pay for Christmas.

 

Because this is a written page and not the stage, I have a little more time to elaborate… For instance, every Thanksgiving my parents would take us kids to the Gimbals’ Thanksgiving Day Parade in Downtown Philly. It might have been ‘Macy’s lite,’ however Gimbals was also a big department store, and they went all out, as did Lit Brothers and John Wanamaker’s, who made their stores look like Disneyland.

 

My mom always told me that the Santa in the Gimbals’ parade was the REAL Santa and all others were his helpers. That included any Santa on the street and even the Macy’s Santa in New York! THEY were all helpers. The REAL Santa visited Philadelphia and at the end of the parade he would climb from his sleigh, up a fire truck ladder, and then vanish through a Gimbals’ window into the toy department. There he would hold court with thousands of children from Thanksgiving right through Christmas Eve. Santa climbing that ladder with his bag slung over his shoulder was one of the greatest sights a little Philly boy could witness, and I can still see it clearly in my mind’s eye.

 

Since I was fortunate enough to have the real Santa just a subway ride away from my house, I believed that when I asked him for a Rin Tin Tin Fort Apache set or a bow and arrow that I would receive it. And I always did.

 

We tried not to ask for much, as we were taught, but Santa always came through. One year Nancy asked for a Patty Play Pal doll and on Christmas morning there it was. She cried with joy for over an hour.

 

Thank you, Mommy and Daddy. Some Christmas memories will never fade.

 

I can still see the little manger scene lit by one white bulb, making it seem like Baby Jesus was lit more than Joseph or Mary or the animals. I can still see the angel at the top of the tree all lit up in red. It was the same angel every year. I loved that angel. It was also the same lights and balls every year. Only the tinsel was new, and my mother was very generous with the tinsel. Thank God it was fireproof because it was everywhere!

 

I see the platform that Daddy built and would put up on Christmas Eve. I never knew how he got that thing out of the cellar on his own, but he did. He would put an entire miniature city, complete with people and buildings and a train and a tunnel, on that platform. It was wondrous!

 

They did it all on Christmas Eve while we slept. When we went to bed, the living room was as it always was. But when Nancy and I came down the stairs the next morning, it was all as if a magic wand had been waved. A complete transformation.

 

After Daddy had a stroke, when I was around fifteen, he spent several years in VA Hospitals (see my book G.I. Joe and Lillie). For his first Christmas at home, some of my buddies and I put up the old platform. It took four of us to get it upstairs! I remember him weeping like a baby over that platform.

 

The bottom line is this… When you see me onstage singing Christmas songs with The Oak Ridge Boys perhaps you will now realize how deep the river runs. I love Christmas. I have tried to make it just as magical for my family over all of these time’s passing. And for me it all goes back to Mommy and Daddy.

 

I will see them again one day as is His promise, and we will laugh and reminisce about those wonderful Christmas memories.

 

Merry Christmas, everyone… Remember that the same Jesus who was born in the manger on that First Christmas Day is the same Jesus that can solve your problems NOW. All you need is to BELIEVE in HIM… Then LEAN on HIM! Thank you, Lord, for parents like Joe and Lillie Bonsall! The Greatest Generation… We need more like them.

 

ON WRITING

by Joseph S. Bonsall

 

Does a writer ever know what is next? Because writing is not my day job, I don’t set aside writing time as some authors do.

 

“I write from 9 a.m. to 2 p.m., every single day!” I have heard.

 

Not me! I need a thought or an idea to trigger the writing side of my brain, and then the faucet is turned on and away I go.

 

“Hey, Joe or Joseph, we need a short commentary on the rutabaga shortage in Uganda.”

All right... blank page... The Rutabaga is, in actuality, a turnip and the recent wars in Uganda have been responsible for...

 

See what I mean? I need a direction or a storyline or an event to push me into writing. Here is an example…

 

While dining in a restaurant I once saw an old man get lost and separated from his wife, who was sitting nearby. He began to tremble in fear because he didn’t realize where he was or why he was there. He began to drop food from his tray, so I rushed to him and tried to be of help. His wife saw what was going on and ran to his side as well. She guided him back to their table, nodded to me, and said, “I am so sorry, he is going through a very tough time right now... So sorry.” She retrieved a flip phone from her purse and called her daughter. She looked so very tired.

 

I went back to my room and wrote about Big Jim Tolefson in what would become the short story “Big Grin,” which appears in my Christmas Miracles book. As an aside, I got the name Jim “Big Grin” Tolefson off a mailbox while walking in a town in Minnesota one day. I actually wrote it down. So there! Another trigger. The story begins... James “Big Grin” Tolefson had once been a Naval Destroyer Commander.

 

My process for the beginning of On the Road with The Oak Ridge Boys came from when my wife, Mary, and I were sitting at a restaurant across the street from our office just before bus leaving time. She called the Oaks “a phenomenon.”

 

After writing An American Journey, I had no idea how to approach a new book on the Oaks, as requested by Harvest House Publishing. But remembering Mary’s reflection gave me an idea for a start, and I just kept going.

I remember sending the first five chapters to my editor to confirm the direction the book was taking. He loved it, so I just kept writing. The end result is a fun book.

 

In it, the Harvest House team also allowed me to share my faith. In fact, they had hoped I would because Harvest House is a Christian publisher. I didn’t let them down. You’ll find some ‘great Jesus’ in the final chapter, “A Final Personal Note from Joe.” We can all use a little more of Him in this day and age.

 

During a luncheon with some of the Harvest House staff, we discussed what I should write next, and it will likely be another non-fiction book. But I do have a novel almost finished. I started writing it about four years after 9-11. It’s called The Miracle of White Tail Hollow, and my protagonist is a character named John Barlow, a member of a very special, under the radar, group called The Patriots.

 

The Patriotis are the best there is at what they do. But John must constantly juggle his love for his family and his dedication to serving America. He must also come to grips with his faith in Jesus Christ and how it applies, or not, to that which he does so well.

 

Along the way there are miracles—as well as some vicious warfare. I love this book, and I hope you will get to read it one day. But, for now, it has been a good exercise in storytelling.

 

I do love to write, and I hope to inspire on many levels with the words that flow. Just like with singing, I want to entertain you. But I also hope that something I say or do or write will touch your heart. That really is what my writing is about.

 

Thanks for reading... JSB

 

Gazing at America through the Lens of a Chick-Fil-A

by Joseph S. Bonsall

 

It was a cool and rainy night in southern Georgia, but we had a great time performing at the Little Roy and Lizzy Music Festival. The show was held under a tent in a huge park.

 

Earlier that day I found myself in a rented room, as usual, with very few eating choices except for the usual array of fast food joints. Thankfully, Chick-Fil-A was among them. For me, it’s an obvious choice among the McDonalds, Taco Bell’s, Arby’s, and Bojangles’ of this world.

 

I decided to dine within and ordered my chicken noodle soups (yes… two bowls), a grilled chicken sandwich, and a large unsweetened iced tea. Taking a seat in the back of the restaurant, I had the pleasure of watching middle America unfold right before my eyes.

 

There were four guys in work clothes talking about what kind of season the Georgia Bulldogs might have in the Fall, while debating the merits of handcrafted beer versus good old Budweiser. These were working men… the backbone of America.

 

There was an old couple, around eighty-five or so, who came in holding hands and left holding hands. Very inspiring!

 

There was a pretty young blonde dressed in the shortest shorts I have ever seen. She seemed totally annoyed that people were staring at her. Well, dang girl, put some clothes on!

 

A table chock full of teenaged girls all dressed in gothic black stared deeply into their iPhones, never speaking to each other. They just ate and stared. They may have been a young witch coven but, in all honesty, they just weren’t very scary. A bit strange though.

 

A guy at the counter with Rasta locks and a Bob Marley tee shirt must have been smoking some good stuff, because the bag of food he took to his Cube car was enormous. No problem, Mon!

 

And the families… wow. I saw a young couple with seven kids. There may have been eight, but I am not certain. I don’t think they knew for sure either.

 

Then there was a young girl at the counter who couldn’t have been more then twenty-five, but she was toting a set of three-year old twins. She looked more tired than the couple with the herd.

 

One young couple sitting very close never stopped looking at each other. It appeared that nobody else existed or mattered. Love and spicy chicken were definitely in the air. I wished them well!

 

Right beside my table, two hunters bragged about how many turkeys they had taken out that week. They were dressed in full camo and, although hunting is perfectly legal, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like for them if turkeys were able to shoot back…. Just their attitude made me want to pull for the turkeys.

 

Then several soldiers came in. Now that is REAL camo. The turkeys THEY face DO shoot back. God bless them all!

 

I could go on and on, but you get the picture. If you want to see America up close and personal spend some time on a Saturday afternoon sitting in a Chick-Fil-A somewhere. Besides… the food and the service are stellar.

 

 And as the cow says… “EAT MOR CHIKIN.”