Music

“Herbie” ––– The Tiny Christmas Tree Searches For A Family

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This story is pulled from the archives as a celebration for the season edition.

Groff Media 2024© Truth Endures IMDbPro

Presented by benandsteve.com By: Benjamin Groff II©

3–4 minutes

In a quiet forest stood a skinny cedar tree, so different from all the others. The tall, majestic cedars around him stretched their lush branches high. In contrast, the little tree looked scrawny. It had sparse needles and a slightly crooked trunk.

People often came to the forest to select the perfect Christmas tree, always passing him by.

The other trees whispered and rustled in the wind, teasing him.

“Look at you, Herbie,”

They said, giving him the nickname that stuck.

“No one’s ever going to want you.”

Herbie tried to stand tall, but he knew they were right. Year after year, Herbie remained as the big, beautiful trees were chosen and taken away. The forest changed around him. He stayed in his lonely spot. He dreamed of what it would feel like to be wanted.

Then, one crisp winter morning, the tree cutters came again, their saws buzzing. Herbie didn’t expect to get noticed, but this time, something different happened. As they cleared their path, one of the workers stopped, scratched his head, and said,

“Well, let’s take this little one, too. Someone might like it.”

Herbie felt the sharp blade cut through his trunk. Before he could fully understand what was happening, he was bundled with the others and taken to the city.

A sea of magnificent Christmas trees surrounded Herbie at the tree lot. Their branches glistened with dew, and they stood tall and proud. Compared to them, Herbie felt even smaller, and his crooked trunk made him look even more awkward.

Shoppers strolled by, admiring the grand trees and taking them home individually. Herbie overheard a nearby pine whisper,

“Face it, Herbie, you’re not cut out for this. No one’s going to pick you.”

The lot grew emptier daily, and Herbie’s hope dwindled. By Christmas Eve, he was the only tree left, standing under the dim glow of a street lamp. The wind whistled through his sparse branches, and Herbie prepared for the inevitable—being tossed away, unloved.

But just as Herbie’s spirits hit their lowest, a tiny voice broke through the cold night air.

“Mama, look! That one’s perfect!”

Herbie lifted his branches slightly in surprise. A little boy with messy hair and bright, eager eyes was pointing at him.

“Are you sure, Tommy?”

His mother asked, crouching beside him,

“This tree is so small. And, well, it’s not exactly full.”

––––

“Exactly!”

Tommy said with a grin.

“It’s different, just like me. We’ll make it the best Christmas tree ever!”

Herbie’s heart soared as Tommy and his mother carefully carried him home. Tommy got to work in their cozy living room, stringing popcorn and cranberries across Herbie’s branches. His mother tucked shiny ornaments into every gap, and finally, they placed a glowing star on top.

Herbie couldn’t believe it. For the first time, he felt truly beautiful. He wasn’t just a funny-looking tree anymore—a Christmas tree.

On Christmas morning, Herbie watched with joy as Tommy tore through his presents, his laughter filling the room. The warmth of the fire danced on Herbie’s branches, and he realized he had never felt so happy.

When the holiday ended, Herbie feared getting thrown out like many trees before him. But instead, Tommy’s family carried him to their backyard.

Tommy said, patting his trunk as they planted him firmly in the soil.

“You’re part of our family now, Herbie,”

Year after year, as Herbie grew taller and fuller, Tommy would decorate him anew, even in the coldest winters.

Herbie learned that it wasn’t about how perfect he looked or how he compared to the other trees. The love and care he received—and gave—made him truly special.

And so, Herbie stood proudly, knowing he would always be part of something wonderful: a family.

Finding Hope in Forgotten Places

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2–3 minutes

I Just Came In to See if Someone Still Cares

The neon beer sign buzzed faintly against the cracked window of Earl’s Place, a bar that had seen better years. The wooden floor creaked under the weight of boots that hadn’t walked through in a long time. Jack pushed the door open and paused. He wasn’t sure why he’d come. Maybe it was habit. Maybe it was the song playing faintly from the jukebox in the corner—one he hadn’t heard in years.

“I just came in to see if someone still cares…”

He let out a dry chuckle.

“Well, ain’t that the truth.”

At a corner table, an older man nursed a black coffee, his hat tipped low. Folks just called him “Red,” though his hair had long gone silver. He raised his head, eyes sharp despite the years.

“Jack,”

he said, as if the name had been waiting on his tongue.

“Didn’t think I’d see you again.”

Jack shrugged and slid into the booth.

“Figured I’d find out if anybody remembered me.”

Red studied him for a moment.

“You mean if anybody still cares.”

Jack didn’t answer. His face told enough. Years of disappointments, false starts, and self-inflicted wounds weighed heavy on him. Work had dried up, his family had drifted off, and the last of his friends had stopped calling. He wasn’t looking for pity. Just… something.

“You know,”

Red said slowly,

“folks got it wrong. They think it’s a man’s mistakes that define him. But I’ll tell you something—it’s his fight against those mistakes that shows who he really is.”

Jack stared down at his calloused hands.

“What if you get tired of fighting?”

Red leaned in, voice low but steady.

“Then you rest. But you don’t quit. If you quit – that is when you hand yourself over to those demons for good. As long as you’ve got breath, you’ve still got a say in how the story ends.”

The jukebox crackled, replaying the song’s chorus, as if to punctuate the thought. Jack felt a sting behind his eyes he hadn’t let out in years. He cleared his throat.

“Guess I just needed to hear it from someone who wasn’t me.”

Red gave a slow nod.

“That’s why you came. Not for the beer. Not for the music. To find out if someone still cared. And I do. Hell, maybe more folks do than you think. You just stopped listening.”

Jack sat back, the weight in his chest easing, just a little. The bar was still dim. The world outside remained hard. For the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel invisible.

That night, as he stepped out into the cool air, Jack realized something. It wasn’t forgiveness from the world he was after—it was the fight inside himself he had to forgive. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough to start over.

By Benjamin GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | 2025 

The Show Must Go ON! Miss Ethel Waters Leads First-Ever Screen Sing-Along

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1–2 minutes

🎬 MEMORIES FROM MEMORY LANE — “ON WITH THE SHOW!” STRIKES A NEW NOTE 🎶
From Our Entertainment Desk — May 29, 1929

Ladies and gentlemen, the talkies have gone and done it again! Moving pictures with sound became a reality on August 6th, 1926. Just three short years later, Warner Bros. has given the public something new to hum about—literally.

This week, cinema-goers were treated to On with the Show!—a Technicolor extravaganza. It boasted the peerless pipes of Miss Ethel Waters. She delivered the lilting tune Am I Blue with such warmth that even the ushers were swooning. But here’s the rub: for the first time in motion picture history, audiences were invited to sing along!

That’s right, folks—words flashed upon the screen as Miss Waters crooned, urging patrons to join in from their seats. And join they did! Voices rang out from the front row to the peanut gallery. Some were as sweet as a songbird. Others were a touch off-key. All were in the spirit of merriment.

Picture it—gentlemen in their finest straw boaters. Ladies fanning themselves in the glow of the projector. Everyone is swept up in the chorus together. Why, one might call it the first karaoke moment in show business history. We’ve yet to invent such a word!

If this is the future of the pictures, we say—bring on the music! After all, the best part of a song is not just hearing it… it’s singing it together.

The King is Gone — and So is the Evidence Locker…

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3–4 minutes


A True Law Enforcement Tale from August 16, 1977

Photo by Paul Volkmer on Pexels.com

On August 16, 1977, the world stopped spinning — at least in Memphis, Tennessee. That was the day Elvis Presley, the King of Rock and Roll, was found unresponsive in the bathroom of Graceland. The global headlines mourned music’s greatest icon. Meanwhile, things were spinning out of control behind the scenes in the world of law enforcement. And not just in Memphis.

Most people don’t know that Elvis’s death caused a minor frenzy. It affected not just fans, but also federal and local law enforcement. This had everything to do with his name, his guns, and his bizarre honorary narcotics badge.

Let’s rewind.

Click image above to learn more

In 1970, Elvis famously met with President Richard Nixon and requested a federal narcotics badge. He did not intend to arrest drug dealers, well, maybe a few. He believed it would grant him special privileges at airports. It would allow him to carry firearms across state lines without hassle. Nixon, eager to impress a celebrity during a slump in his popularity, gave him the badge. Elvis then began collecting honorary police badges from departments across the U.S., often in exchange for autographs, memorabilia, or a simple smile.

By the time of his death, Elvis had amassed over 100 badges. Some were real, others purely decorative, and a few were questionably obtained. The King had a well-known obsession with guns. He owned dozens of pistols and rifles. He even had a few military-grade toys. When the news of his death broke, more than one law enforcement agency quietly wondered. They asked themselves, ‘What did we give that man?’ And can we please get it back?

According to insiders at the time, several local departments began calling Graceland discreetly. They were hoping to retrieve various “loaned” badges and sidearms. One small-town sheriff reportedly said, 

“We didn’t think he’d actually keep the darn thing. It was supposed to be a photo op!”

Even the DEA got involved. They did not act out of malice. Elvis’s collection included a few federal items. These should have never technically left Washington. A flurry of quiet internal memos from late August 1977 hints at an almost comical scramble. They describe recovering government property from the estate of a man. This man had once offered to go undercover as a federal agent “to stop the hippie drug culture.”

This man had once offered to go undercover as a federal agent “to stop the hippie drug culture.”

Meanwhile, fans held candlelight vigils and bought up every Elvis album in sight. Law enforcement agents were busy inventorying his arsenal of firearms and badges. His collection would put most mid-size police departments to shame.

A deputy who had once met Elvis described the moment. They realized the full extent of the collection: 

“I walked into that room. I saw enough shiny shields to start a police academy.”

I half expected them to start talking.

Most of the badges were eventually returned. Some were documented as honorary. Yet, a few were mysteriously “lost to history.” They are reportedly still missing to this day. One turned up on eBay years later. This sparked a brief online turf war between Elvis fans and collectors of obscure police paraphernalia.

August 16, 1977, then, marks not just the day the King left the building. It was also the day law enforcement agencies across the country had a new challenge. They found themselves unexpectedly cleaning up behind him. They tried, with straight faces, to explain to their bosses. Why did Elvis Presley have more police gear than some SWAT teams?

The Day Music Lost Three Legends

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By Benjamin GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | 2025 Truth Endures©

1–2 minutes

The Day the Music Died: February 3, 1959

On a cold February night in 1959, the heartbeat of American rock and roll fell silent in an Iowa cornfield.

Photo by ArtHouse Studio on Pexels.com

Buddy Holly was just 22 years old. He had chartered a small Beechcraft Bonanza plane. His goal was to avoid the grueling winter tour bus ride. This bus ride plagued the “Winter Dance Party” tour across the Midwest. Along with him were Ritchie Valens, just 17, and J.P. “The Big Bopper” Richardson, 28. All three had become major figures in the rapidly evolving American music scene.

The tour itself was chaos. It was poorly routed and underfunded. Bitter temperatures pushed both buses and artists to the limit. Holly was tired. She was freezing and sick. She made a decision: skip the bus and fly ahead to the next stop in Moorhead, Minnesota.

The plane took off around 12:55 a.m. from Clear Lake, Iowa. Minutes later, it crashed into a frozen cornfield, killing everyone onboard. The pilot, Roger Peterson, was just 21.

The news shocked the country. Three of rock and roll’s brightest stars were gone in an instant. Don McLean would later memorialize the event in his 1971 hit, “American Pie,” calling it “the day the music died.”

But in the silence that followed, the music didn’t die. It grew louder. The tragedy marked a turning point—the moment rock and roll lost its innocence and began to grow up. It was the high cost of youthful rebellion, forever frozen in that snow-covered field.

One member of Holley’s band was supposed to ride on the plane. He gave his seat to Ritchie Valens. Instead, he rode on the band’s bus to the next location. That member was Waylon Jennings. He would deal with that decision for many years before making peace with himself. Jennings would become a legend in his own right. He became a country music singer, having hit after hit. He was known as an outlaw in the industry.

The Broken and the Blessed: Understanding the Depth of Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah

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By Benjamin GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | 2025 Truth Endures©

2–3 minutes

The True Meaning of Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah

Leonard Cohen

Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah has become one of the most widely recognized and performed songs in modern music history. It’s played at weddings, funerals, church services, and talent shows. But in all the repetition and repurposing, something essential has been lost.

Cohen never intended Hallelujah to be simply beautiful. He intended it to be raw. Complex. Human.

The song is not a hymn of praise in the traditional sense. Instead, it’s a poem set to music, a confession wrapped in biblical language and erotic undertones. It’s about a man watching a woman undress from a rooftop. He watches not in an act of love, but of longing and helpless craving. He stands in his kitchen, overwhelmed and isolated. The “hallelujah” he utters is not holy—at least not in the religious sense. It is a broken hallelujah. It is born from the ache of wanting and not having. It is the result of touching something divine through deeply human hunger.

Cohen interweaves the sacred and the sensual because, for him, they were never far apart. Verses reference King David, Bathsheba, Samson and Delilah—figures whose passions brought them into both ecstatic heights and tragic ruin. Cohen wanted to explore this contradiction. He wanted to understand how love, lust, faith, betrayal, and surrender all live side by side in the human soul.

“There’s a blaze of light in every word. It doesn’t matter which you heard. It could be the holy or the broken hallelujah.”

The tension in Hallelujah is not just between sacred and profane, but between understanding and mystery. Why do we feel what we feel? Why do we cry out “hallelujah” even when we are lost or ashamed?

Later in life, Cohen was said to feel some regret. He was unhappy over how the song had been turned into a feel-good anthem. It was stripped of its edge and stripped of its truth. Many of the popular covers—Jeff Buckley’s, John Cale’s, even k.d. lang’s—choose only a few of the verses, removing the darker or more explicitly sexual lines. What’s left is haunting, but incomplete.

Cohen reportedly wrote over 80 verses for Hallelujah. The versions we know today are fragments—reflections of reflections. But they carry within them that strange, shimmering truth: that pain and praise can live in the same breath.

In one interview, Cohen said:

“This world is full of conflicts and full of things that can’t be reconciled. But there are moments when we can… and the song ‘Hallelujah’ is about those moments.”

Those moments—the mingling of joy and sorrow, flesh and spirit, light and shadow—are what make Hallelujah more than a song. They make it a mirror.

We don’t all shout our hallelujahs from rooftops. Some of us whisper them from the corners of our kitchens, alone, longing, and unsure. But that doesn’t make them any less true.

That’s the Hallelujah Leonard Cohen wrote.

The Grand Tour of Heartbreak and Hope: A Country Ballad in the Courtroom

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How Vern, George, and Randy Saved a Marriage (Almost)

By Benjamin GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | 2025 Truth Endures©

3–4 minutes

“The Country-Fried Defense”

That just about does it, don’t it? Step Right up Come On In!

The Honorable Judge Bledsoe peered over his glasses, clearly unimpressed. “Mr. Rawlins, you understand this is a legal proceeding, not the Grand Ole Opry?”

“Yes, Your Honor,”

Said Henry Rawlins. He stood tall in his dusty boots and bolo tie. One hand rested on a weathered Bible. The other clutched a crumpled lyric sheet.

Across the courtroom, his soon-to-be ex-wife, Sherry Lynn, sat rigid in her seat, her lawyer whispering furiously in her ear. Henry’s lawyer had already given up and was sitting down, his face red, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief.

Henry cleared his throat.

“But if the court will allow, I’d like to offer my final statement in my own words. I would also like to include the words of a few gentlemen. They helped me understand what went wrong.”

A murmur passed through the courtroom.

Judge Bledsoe sighed.

“Mr. Rawlins, continue—briefly.”

Henry nodded, unfolding the page.

“Your Honor, I ain’t a lawyer. But I know pain, regret, and how a man can lose his way. And those feelings are best told not in legal briefs but in country songs. So I offer my case—in three verses and a broken heart.”

He stepped ahead.

“First, Vern Gosdin said it best: ‘That just about does it. That’ll just about kill it, won’t it?’ That’s what I said the day Sherry left. I came home to an empty house and a note by the coffee pot. Ten years of marriage, and it ended in one quiet goodbye.”

He turned to Sherry Lynn.

“I didn’t fight. I figured I’d already lost. And I didn’t blame her—not entirely. I hadn’t been easy to love.”

The courtroom was silent. Even the bailiff looked up from his crossword.

“Then,” Henry continued,

“I walked through what George Jones called ‘The Grand Tour.’ I opened the closet and saw her dresses hangin’ like ghosts. Our baby’s room still had the mobile spinnin’ slow. The smell of her perfume lingered like a memory that didn’t know how to leave.”

Judge Bledsoe adjusted in his seat, then motioned for him to finish.

“But, Your Honor, here’s the thing. I almost didn’t show up here today. I nearly signed the papers and walked away. But then I heard Randy Travis singing. He was singing ‘On the Other Hand… there’s a golden band.’ It reminded me of someone who would not understand.”

Henry looked again at Sherry Lynn, softer now.

“On one hand, I messed up. I got too comfortable. I stopped listening. I stopped holding her when she needed to be held. But on the other hand, I still believe in us. That golden band still means something to me. Maybe I’m a fool for sayin’ this here in court. I’d rather fight to fix it. I won’t stand here and let it all go to hell while quoting country songs.”

He folded the paper, tucked it into his jacket, and looked down.

“I rest my case.”

A pause. Then Judge Bledsoe leaned back in his chair.

“Well,” 

he said slowly,

“I’ve been on this bench for twenty-three years. I’ve heard lawyers argue using everything from scripture to Shakespeare. But, I’ve never heard anyone use Vern Gosdin.”

The judge turned to Sherry Lynn.

“Mrs. Rawlins, do you still wish to continue with the divorce?”

She was silent for a moment. Her expression softened as she looked at Henry—looked at him—for the first time in months.

“I… I don’t know,” 

She said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“But maybe we should talk. Not here. Somewhere real.”

Judge Bledsoe smiled faintly.

But, on the other hand…The George, Vern and Randy Plea.

“Court is adjourned.”

As the gavel fell, Henry turned to Sherry Lynn.

“There’s a little diner down the road,” 

He said.

“We used to get cherry pie there after church.”

She nodded.

“Maybe one slice… on the other hand.”

Dre Love’s Legacy: Bridging American and Italian Music

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By Benjamin GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | 2025 Truth Endures©

3–4 minutes

André Thomas Halyards, known artistically as Dre Love, was a central and pioneering figure in Italian hip hop. He has passed away in Florence at the age of 55.

Dre Love was born in the Queens borough of New York City. He became a Florentine by adoption in the 1990s. Dre Love was a versatile artist: DJ, rapper, beatmaker, songwriter, and tireless collaborator. He had a gritty voice and unmistakable style. He brought the groove and soul of African American funk into the sounds of Italian hip hop. This helped to write some of its most authentic and vital chapters.

Dre Love arrived in Italy in the early 1990s. He made his home in Florence. This city would shape both his artistic and personal journey. There, he joined Radical Stuff, one of Italy’s very first hip hop groups. He became a living bridge between American street culture and the emerging urban scenes taking shape across the country. He was also a member of the collective Messaggeri della Dopa. He helped to redefine Italian rap with a style that blended social consciousness. His approach also incorporated sophisticated musicality and spirituality.

His Collaboration with Neffa

Dre Love’s name is often linked with Neffa, with whom he collaborated on the Campanian rapper’s first two albums. He worked with a wide array of Italian and international artists. These include Irene Grandi, Alex Britti, Almamegretta, DJ Gruff, DJ Enzo, Gopher D, Reggae National Tickets. His collaborations even touched on the soul-funk sound of Jamiroquai.

Dre Love was never just a guest artist. He was a true collaborator in the deepest sense. He was an artist who opened doors. He created connections between musical worlds that seemed far apart. A messenger who made every beat, every bar, a statement of purpose. His music was a captivating blend of rap, funk, soul, and electronic experimentation. It was deeply rooted in a visceral respect for African American culture. His work always pushed toward innovation.

With his band, Dre Love delivered live performances. The band featured talented Italian musicians like Diego Leporatti (drums), Gianni Pantaleo (keyboards), and Niccolò Malcontenti (bass). It also included Tiziano Carfora (percussion), Andrea Rubino (guitar), Leandro Giordani (saxophone), and Emanuele Campigli (trumpet). Each performance was a true sonic journey through the past, current, and future of Black music.

Unlike the other famous “Dre” in hip hop history, Dr. Dre, Dre Love built his legend in a different way. He did not do it through the spotlight of the music industry. Instead, he made a direct impact with audiences, scenes, and people. He didn’t seek confrontation, but dialogue. Not profit, but connection. Where Dr. Dre of Compton made significant changes in hip hop with The Chronic, he further transformed the music industry with Beats. In contrast, Dre Love revolutionized hearts and stages, leaving an indelible mark on the history of Italian rap.

(By Paolo Martini)

A Tribute from Casino Royale

“Just a little while ago, a ‘great’ one made the big leap. This was a soul who gave so much. He contributed both humanly and in terms of sound and attitude to the Italian scene. Casino Royale was never a hip hop project. Still, we had the privilege of crossing paths with many figures. These figures made history in this country’s hip hop culture. Dre Love was one of those. He will always stay in our Olympus of demigods. We had the honor of meeting such people.

Every time we crossed paths, there were genuine hugs. They were full of mutual respect. We always promised that one day, we’d play that game together. It’s the game that becomes a mission for those who feel the responsibility. They also experience the joy of doing things a certain way.

ROCK ON!!! That was his goodbye.
‘The sky is the limit’—fly light, Dre Love. See you on the other side.”

(From a post published by Casino Royale on Facebook)

Originally posted at adnkronos

The Legacy of Lefty Frizzell: Influencing Country Legends

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By Benjamin GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | 2025 Truth Endures©

1–2 minutes

“The Voice That Taught a Generation”

Lefty Frizell

In the summer of 1950, a determined young singer named Lefty Frizzell stood outside Jim Beck’s recording studio. He was in Dallas, Texas. He was ready to make his mark. At just 22, he had already weathered a storm of heartbreak, barroom gigs, and run-ins with the law. Lefty had slicked-back hair and a crooked grin. A battered guitar was slung over his shoulder. He aimed for more than just a break. He was pursuing his destiny.

William Orville Frizzell was born in Corsicana, Texas, in 1928. He earned the nickname “Lefty” as a boy. Stories about how he got the nickname vary, from a boxing match to being left-handed. What was undeniable, though, was his voice. Smooth, elastic, and full of feeling, it wrapped around words in a way that captivated everyone who heard it.

That day in Dallas, Lefty recorded a few songs. He included one he had penned during his time in jail, ‘If You’ve Got the Money (I’ve Got the Time).‘ Within a few weeks, Columbia Records released it, and just like that, Lefty was catapulted into stardom.

By the end of 1950, he had four songs in the country Top Ten—a feat unheard of at the time. His singing style was marked by stretched syllables and graceful phrasing. It would later profoundly influence legends like Merle Haggard, George Jones, and Willie Nelson. We are forever appreciative for this influence.

Yet fame came with a cost. Lefty struggled with alcohol and the pressures of the spotlight. Though his career saw ups and downs, his voice never lost its magic. Even before he died in 1975 at the age of 47, he would sing for country artists. They would still gather around to hear him. They wanted to remember the man who changed the sound of country music forever.

Merle Haggard once said, 

“I can’t think of anyone who has influenced me more.”

Lefty Frizzell didn’t just sing songs—he bent time with his voice and taught a generation how to feel every word.

The Brothers of Friday the 13th: A Country Music Legacy

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By Benjamin GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | 2025 Truth Endures©

2–4 minutes

The Brothers of Friday the 13th

They say Friday the 13th brings bad luck. But, for Jack Anglin and Johnnie Wright, it brought something entirely different. It brought love, brotherhood, and the country music that carves its way into the soul.

Jack and Johnnie were destined to sing. Their childhoods were steeped in gospel, church choirs, and the rhythm of the land. They met as they met most things in life—through music. And they married as they did everything else—on a Friday the 13th. Jack wed Louise, and Johnnie took her sister, Muriel, as his bride. This made them brothers-in-law, but their voices had already made them brothers in spirit, their bond unbreakable.

They began touring as Johnnie & Jack, their harmonies tight as barbed wire and twice as sharp. They sang of sorrow and salvation, of trains leaving and lovers staying. And behind them, always, stood the sisters.

Johnnie’s wife, Muriel, had a soft voice. It could’ve gone unnoticed if not for a quiet evening at home. She hummed along to a song Johnnie was working on. He stopped strumming, looked at her, and knew.

“You need a stage name,” 

He said. 

“Something people will remember.”

He thought a moment, then grinned. 

“Kitty Wells.”

She laughed at the name, but it stuck. Kitty Wells soon became the Queen of Country Music. Her voice turned the tide with It Wasn’t God Who Made Honky Tonk Angels. The song gave women in the country their place in the spotlight.

In a later interview, Johnny recalled that the name “Kitty Wells” came from an old spiritual recording. He used to play it during his early days working at a radio station. The name stuck with him. When it came time to give Muriel a stage name, it felt like the perfect fit. It was familiar, timeless, and filled with meaning.

Life moved fast. Fame came. Tours blurred together. But Jack and Johnnie were always together—on stage, on the road, in life.

Then came March 1963.

Patsy Cline, Cowboy Copas, and Hawkshaw Hawkins—all killed in a plane crash returning after a charity concert. The country music world was shattered. A memorial service was planned, and Jack insisted on going.

“Gotta pay respects,” 

He said. 

“We’ve all come up together.”

But he never made it.

On the fateful morning of March 8, 1963, Jack Anglin was en route to the service. Tragically, he lost control of his car and crashed. His life was taken in an instant. The news reached the church before Johnnie’s arrival. They say the moment he heard, Johnnie was overcome with grief, falling to his knees. The man who had been his constant companion on every stage, in every storm, was no more.

It was a heartbreak no harmony can fix.

Johnnie went on as best he could. Kitty sang. The spotlight stayed, but something had shifted. There was a silence beside him now where Jack’s voice used to be.

Still, the music lived on.

Two men, two sisters, two voices joined by fate, and a wedding date no one forgets. Friday the 13th had given them everything—and, somehow, had taken it all back.

Yet, their songs endure, a testament to their enduring legacy. In every old record and radio play, their voices still resonate. Jack and Johnnie were brothers in music and marriage. Their harmonies echo through the years. It is a timeless tribute to their bond and art.

Tribute to Edy Star: The Groundbreaking Brazilian Artist

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By Benjamin GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | 2025 Truth Endures©

1–2 minutes
Edy Star

Edy Star, Trailblazing Brazilian Artist and Queer Icon, Dies at 87

April 25, 2025 – São Paulo, Brazil

Edy Star was a flamboyant and fearless Brazilian artist. He was a singer, actor, and visual artist. He broke ground as one of the country’s first openly gay performers. Edy Star died on April 24 in São Paulo. He was 87.

A Singular Life

Born Edy Nunes in Salvador, Bahia, Edy Star became a singular presence in Brazilian culture. His career spanned music, theater, television, and visual arts. He carved a space for himself that defied convention. He also challenged the mainstream.

He is best remembered for his work on the 1971 cult album. Sociedade da Grã-Ordem Kavernista Apresenta Sessão das 10 gained significant attention. It is a psychedelic, satirical collaboration with Raul Seixas, Sérgio Sampaio, and Miriam Batucada. The album blends rock, samba, and theatrical flair. It was initially pulled from circulation. But, it later became a defining artifact of Brazil’s counter cultural movement.

Fearless Expression in Dangerous Times

Edy Star was known for his irreverent stage presence, extravagant costumes, and unapologetic queerness. Brazil was under a military dictatorship. During this time, LGBTQ+ voices were often silenced. His bold performances stood as acts of defiance.

By challenging gender norms and pushing social boundaries, he became a symbol of artistic freedom, resistance, and queer pride.

A Multidisciplinary Force

Moreover to his musical legacy, Edy Star was a visual artist, television presenter, and seasoned stage actor. His multidisciplinary approach made him a beloved figure across Brazil’s creative scenes.

He brought the same vibrant energy and passion to every medium he touched. His work left a lasting impression on audiences and fellow artists alike.

A Peaceful Farewell

Edy Star passed away peacefully in a São Paulo hospital due to complications after a domestic accident. According to a statement from his press office, he died “without pain, while receiving medical treatment.”

An Enduring Legacy

Edy Star’s legacy lives on in the bold, boundary-breaking art he championed. He inspired generations of LGBTQ+ artists to live and create without compromise.

He didn’t just execute. He transformed.

A Life of Humility: The Story of Wayne Handy

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3–4 minutes

In Memory of Wayne Jackson, Handy ––– The Unlikely Rock and Roller

Wayne Handy

Wayne Jackson Handy was a man whose velvet voice once crooned over the airwaves of American Bandstand. His voice later soothed those navigating the mortgage banking world. He passed away peacefully on April 1, 2025, at 89. Wayne started from humble beginnings on a farm in Eden, North Carolina. He then moved on to the dazzling lights of 1950s television. Later, he found the quiet steadiness of a career in finance. Wayne lived an entire and remarkable life. It was defined not by fame or fortune but by kindness, creativity, and unwavering devotion to his family.

Wayne’s love and commitment to his family were unwavering. The youngest of five children, Wayne was born in Eden and raised helping his parents in the fields. He graduated from Reidsville High School in 1953. Two years later, he married the love of his life, Marjorie Louise Smith of Cassville. He charmed her at a local baseball game. This was a story he told with a twinkle in his eye. His smile hinted at the hopeless romantic within. Their marriage endured over six decades. It was a bond marked by deep affection and laughter. Their steadfast partnership lasted until Marjorie’s passing in 2018.

Wayne’s musical talent was a source of inspiration for many. His velvet-smooth voice and playful way with melody, often accompanied by his ukulele, were a joy to behold. In 1957, his passion for music led him to a national stage. He performed on American Bandstand. He shared the screen with some of rock and roll’s earliest stars there. His brush with fame was brief. Yet, it left a glimmer of rockabilly stardust. This touch of stardust was on a life otherwise grounded in humility and grace.

After enlisting in the U.S. Army in 1958, Wayne served two years in Alaska as a field radio operator. Upon returning home, he pursued higher education. He studied business at North Carolina State University and the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. He graduated in 1962. His career in mortgage banking took him and his family across the Southeast. They even moved to Utah. His career eventually culminated in his time with Carolina Bank in Greensboro. He worked there until his retirement in the mid-2000s.

In every chapter of his life, Wayne’s character remained consistent: humble, gracious, patient, meticulous, and quietly dignified. He gave generously of himself, donating blood regularly and ringing the Salvation Army bell during the holidays. He was profoundly artistic and playfully inventive. His children celebrated him for his affectionate nicknames. Adults also appreciated his funny songs, silly voices, and irrepressible sense of the absurd.

Despite his many accomplishments, Wayne’s humility was a defining trait. He was never one to boast. He preferred to show love through small, steady acts. This included a freshly repaired item. It was a perfectly stacked rock wall, a gentle word, or a slow walk in the evening light. He was a natural storyteller. He was a dapper dresser. His gentle Southern accent and kind eyes conveyed a rare and genuine warmth.

He is remembered with love and admiration. His children include Christopher Handy, Jeff Handy, and Meredith Brunel (Richard). His grandchildren include Louise, Henri, Carlene, Charlotte, Erendira, and Matthew. He is also remembered by his great-grandchildren. Wayne was predeceased by his beloved wife, Marjorie, with whom he now reunites in eternal peace.

A graveside gathering and inurnment of ashes will occur at Bethesda Presbyterian Church in Ruffin. The date is yet to be announced.

Wayne Handy lived with a quiet brilliance. He was a rock and roller by surprise, a banker by choice, and a gentleman by nature. His life reminds us that grace, humor, love, and a good melody can carry us further than fame ever could.

Rest well, Wayne. You sang your song, walked your path, and left the world a gentler place.

Remembering Gordon Faith: A Legacy in Acting and Voice Coaching

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1–2 minutes
Gordan Faith
Gordon Faith

Gordon Faith, a distinguished actor and voice coach, has passed away at 94 in Tyne, England. Gordon was born in 1931. His passion for the performing arts led him to a successful career on stage and screen. He also held a respected position as an educator in voice and speech.​

Gordon’s acting career spanned several decades, with notable performances in London’s West End productions. 

He appeared as a Neighbor in “Bye Bye Birdie” in 1961. He portrayed the Cantor in “Bar Mitzvah Boy” in 1978.  His television credits were extensive. He took roles in “Doctor Who,” “The Liver Birds,” and “War and Peace.” He also acted in “When the Boat Comes In,” “Z Cars,” “Crossroads,” and “Colditz.” ​

Beyond his acting accomplishments, Gordon was deeply committed to the art of voice and speech. He studied under Cicely Berry. She was the esteemed voice coach for the Royal Shakespeare Company. He furthered his skills with phonetics specialist Greta Colson. Gordon shared his knowledge through teaching positions at several institutions. These included the Guildford School of Acting, the Webber Douglas Academy, Rose Bruford College, and Mountview Drama School. He was Head of Voice at the London Academy of Performing Arts and London’s Method Studio. 
​
Gordon’s dedication to voice coaching extended to private clients. He offered guidance in interview techniques, vocal projection, elocution, and stage confidence. His students included aspiring actors, business professionals, and individuals seeking to enhance their communication skills.

Colleagues and students remember Gordon for his exceptional ability to convey the importance of bodily support in voice production. Actress and playwright Naomi Willis remarked,

“Gordon is brilliant at conveying how every part of the body must support the voice for it to be strong.” 

Gordon Faith’s legacy in the performing arts is invaluable. Those who had the privilege of learning from him will cherish his influence in voice coaching communities. Those who worked with him will also hold his influence dear.​

Childhood Memories and Roberta Flack’s Influence

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Presented by benandsteve.com By: Benjamin Groff II©s

2–3 minutes

The First Time I Ever Saw Your Face, It Was Killing Me Softly

I was between six and eight years old. That was the first time I heard The First Time I Saw Your Face. I also heard Killing Me Softly with His Song for the first time then. My oldest sister, Julie, adored those songs. She was taking piano lessons at that time. She often attempted to play them. Her fingers hesitantly found their way across the keys.

I still remember the old upright piano my parents got for her from a family friend. It was massive and heavy as a full-grown ox. My brothers struggled to carry it to the front wall of our living room. That’s where it stayed for years. Some of the keys stuck, while others refused to make a sound. But a piano tuner visited us. Afterward, the old instrument came to life. It was ready to echo through the house with Julie’s music.

Those long summer days when school was out were filled with Roberta Flack’s voice drifting through our home. Julie played her albums endlessly, the lyrics weaving into my young mind. I remember watching Play Misty for Me. It was my first real brush with suspense. I was more worried about Roberta Flack than I was about Clint Eastwood’s character. My parents had to reassure me that it was just a movie and that no one was in danger.

The First Time I Saw Your Face became inseparable from that film in my memory. In the same way, Killing Me Softly with His Song later found its way into About a Boy. I saw that one at the old Caddo Theater on Main Street in Binger, Oklahoma. My parents never let Julie go to the movies alone, so I was always sent as her reluctant chaperon. At the time, I was too small to protect her from anything. Still, I suppose my presence was enough to keep her out of trouble. At least that’s what my parents hoped.

All these years later, those songs still surface in my mind, uninvited but always welcome. They sneak in when I try to fall asleep while studying and when I need to concentrate. They echo my childhood memories. They replay in the corners of my mind. They are tethered to the days when Julie sat at that old upright piano. She tried to master the melodies.

And for that, I owe it all to Roberta Flack. Shall she rest in peace.

Vern Gosdin’s Legendary Blizzard Concert Experience

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3–5 minutes

The Night Vern Gosdin Played for Twenty

Harry had worn many hats in his life. One of his most memorable roles was as a news director. He also served as an operations manager at a radio station in the lower Great Plains. His job included ensuring that touring musicians arrived at their venues without issue. He also ensured that their shows went off without a hitch.

Artists like Dan Seals, Davis Daniel, and Vern Gosdin have passed through the area over the years. They brought country music to fans eager to taste Nashville. But one night in particular stood out—the night Vern Gosdin played for twenty.

Gosdin, known as “The Voice,” was a country music legend. His pedigree included stints with the Golden State Boys, The Byrds, and collaborations with George Jones. He had a rich, smooth baritone. It gave life to timeless hits like Set’ Em Up Joe. He also brought If You’re Gonna Do Me Wrong, Do It Right to life. Another classic was Chiseled in Stone. Fans were eager to see him live. He was scheduled to sing at a local college auditorium and field house. This event was set for one Saturday night in January.

On Friday, Harry arrived at the venue to oversee the setup. Everything was in place—sound, lighting, seating—and aligned with the band’s requirements. The only concern was the weather. Forecasts hinted at snow, but the storm was expected to stay north of the region. Gosdin’s tour bus had pulled in behind the venue by noon on Saturday. The final checks were made, and everything looked good to go.

Then, the storm took a turn.

By late afternoon, the sky darkened, and the wind began howling. Within hours, blizzard-like conditions descended on the area, dumping nearly a foot of snow. Whiteout conditions made travel treacherous. The state highway department issued warnings urging motorists to stay off the roads unless it was an emergency.

By showtime, only twenty dedicated souls had managed to reach the venue. The sold-out crowd was nowhere to be seen, trapped by the snow. Their decision to be there showed strong dedication. They braved treacherous conditions as a testament to their love for Vern Gosdin and his music.

Despite the dismal turnout, Vern Gosdin and his band took the stage as if playing to a packed house. Gosdin stepped to the microphone, wore a warm smile, and said, –––

“We made it. For those of you here, we will play!”

The Voice filled the nearly empty hall with his opening number. He sang “I’m Gonna Be Moving,” a gospel tune. It resonated with many of his fans. He followed with “I Can Tell By the Way You Dance.” The concert became extraordinary from that moment on.

The crew saw rows of empty seats. They decided to clear a space near the stage, which was turned into a dance floor. The twenty die-hard fans swayed, twirled, and laughed as Gosdin played every song from his setlist. It was no longer just a concert but an intimate, once-in-a-lifetime experience, a privilege they can claim. Between songs, Gosdin and the band chatted with the audience, taking requests and sharing stories.

The small but mighty crowd erupted into cheers when he played his final song and left the stage. Their enthusiasm filled the hall, and they refused to let the night end.

A minute later, Gosdin and his band returned.

He picked up his guitar for his encore and grinned at his audience. He broke into I’m Moving On. Then, he followed with That Just About Does It. The twenty lucky souls in attendance soaked up every note, knowing they were part of something special.

Outside, more than fifteen inches of snow had blanketed the town. The roads were treacherous, but Gosdin’s bus driver was determined to push ahead. He asked Harry to lead them to the highway, where they would inch their way north. Harry agreed, and with the radio station’s car guiding the way, the tour bus crept through the snow-covered streets.

After twenty miles, the highway finally began to clear. As the bus picked up speed, the driver gave a long honk. It was a final thanks to Harry for helping them through the storm. It was also for an unforgettable night on the Great Plains.

The twenty who braved the blizzard that night in Goodwell, Oklahoma, gained more than a concert experience. They had seen a legend up close. It was a personal meeting in a performance that would be talked about for years to come. The memories of that night, the laughter, and the music will stay with them forever. The sense of community was also unforgettable. This is a testament to the enduring power of live music.

The Evolution of Fun: From Classic TV to Modern Joys

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Presented by benandsteve.com By: Benjamin Groff II©

2–4 minutes

GOOD TIMES REMEMBERED

Crosby & Hope

For many, the good times meant youth spent without barriers. Kids rode bicycles freely around town or through the countryside. They explored wherever curiosity led. They just had to be home before dark or by 10 p.m. It was when running to a friend’s house, unannounced was safe. It felt just as natural for them to show up at yours. We all cherish that time of freedom and spontaneity.


Your version of the good times began when you got first place as a young adult. You also got hooked up to cable television. Gone were the days of only three channels. Now, there were forty or more. Channels like MTV, HBO, and SHOWTIME offered endless entertainment. Some kept their televisions locked on MTV 24/7, not wanting to miss the latest music video premiere. The phrase “I want my MTV” wasn’t just a slogan; it was a way of life.


Icons like Downtown Julie Brown, Max Headroom, Randy of the Redwoods, and JJ Jackson became daily companions. They guided audiences through interviews and music video countdowns. These shows entertained us and shaped our memories, creating connection and nostalgia.


Yet, while MTV rocked for many, others fondly recall Saturday mornings. They spent time with classic cartoon characters. They watched Bugs Bunny, Elmer Fudd, Daffy Duck, and Yosemite Sam. Or they enjoyed Speedy Gonzales, the Flintstones, or the Jetsons. These beloved characters live on today, often appearing in rebranded forms and often in commercials that spark nostalgia.


For earlier and later generations, laughter came from entertainers like Pinky Lee or Pee-wee Herman. In the 1950s, Pinky Lee brought his lively antics to television. He appeared first in a primetime variety show. Later, he starred in a children’s program sponsored by Tootsie Roll. His Emmy-nominated show paved the way for future quirky entertainers. Pee-wee Herman was one of them. His distinctive gray Glen plaid suit, red bow tie, and eccentric persona owed much to Lee’s energetic style.


Beyond television, the good times existed in life’s simple pleasures. One was the crackle of a baseball game on the radio during a warm summer evening. Another was the scent of fresh popcorn at a drive-in theater. The excitement of getting that first car was thrilling. Sheer will and a little duct tape held it together.


For some, the best times were spent playing Pac-Man and Donkey Kong in arcade halls. They also glided across the roller rink beneath spinning disco lights. Others made mixtapes from the radio. They hoped the DJ wouldn’t talk over the intro of a favorite song. Others remember cruising on a Saturday night, windows down, music blasting, with no destination—just the pure joy of freedom.
The good times were about more than the entertainment we consumed. They were about the people we shared them with. Families gathered around holiday meals. Friends packed into a car for a spur-of-the-moment road trip. Conversations under a star-filled sky became treasured late-night memories.


Each generation has its version of the good times. These moments shape us and leave lasting impressions. They bring smiles long after they’ve passed. No matter what era you look back on, one thing is sure. The good times do not last forever. But they always roll on in our hearts. They create a sense of continuity and belonging.

What is your favorite best-of-times recollection?

The Guitar from Jimmy Carter’s Grove

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Presented by benandsteve.com By: Benjamin Groff II©

3–4 minutes

Long after leaving the White House, Jimmy Carter found solace in the quiet rhythms of nature. On a sunny morning in Plains, Georgia, Jimmy stood at the edge of a grove. He had planted these trees decades ago. These trees—mahogany, maple, and spruce—weren’t native to the region. Carter had brought their seeds home from his travels. He envisioned them growing tall and strong in the fertile Georgian soil.

Jimmy called what others saw as an unusual hobby his “living legacy.” Each tree had a purpose, and he dreamed of turning their wood into something meaningful. One day, while strumming his old guitar on the porch, the idea struck him: 

What if I made a guitar from the trees I grew with my own hands?

The Craft

Years passed before the time was right. Jimmy carefully chose a mahogany tree for the body. He selected a maple tree for the neck. He also picked spruce for the soundboard. He contacted a local luthier, Sam Wainwright, who had a reputation for crafting instruments with heart and precision.

Sam, skeptical at first, raised an eyebrow when Jimmy proposed the project.

“You’re telling me you’ve been growing trees for years just for this?”

Jimmy chuckled.

“A good guitar starts with good wood. I figured, why not grow my own?”

Sam couldn’t argue with the sentiment. They spent hours examining the wood, carefully cutting it, and shaping it to perfection. Jimmy insisted on being part of every step, from sanding the pieces to carving the intricate rosette around the soundhole.

As they worked, Jimmy shared stories—about his childhood in the rural South, his presidency, and his humanitarian efforts. Sam listened intently, realizing the guitar wasn’t just an instrument but a symbol of patience, purpose, and creativity.

The First Song

Months later, the guitar was finished. Its finish glowed like amber honey. Its tone was warm and resonant. It carried the richness of the wood’s decades-long journey. Jimmy held it in his hands. He marveled at how the trees he had nurtured now sang harmoniously. They created a sound that was not just music. It was a testament to the beauty of nature.

During a warm summer evening, friends and family gathered. Jimmy sat on his porch with the guitar resting comfortably in his lap. He strummed the first chords, their notes floating into the peach-scented air.

The song he played was one he had written himself. It was a simple tune about the roots—both in the ground and in life. It spoke of time, care, and the beauty of watching something grow. The crowd swayed to the music. Their faces lit with admiration for the man who had turned trees into tunes. They felt a sense of nostalgia for the simple, yet profound, message of the song.

A Lasting Legacy

In the years that followed, the guitar became more than an instrument. Jimmy used it to teach music to children, play for visitors, and raise funds for Habitat for Humanity. Each time its strings vibrated, it told a story of persistence and hope.

When asked why he had gone to such lengths to make the guitar, Jimmy would smile and say,

“It reminds us that good things take time. The simplest gifts, like a tree or a song, can bring the most joy.”

The guitar from Jimmy Carter’s Grove wasn’t just a piece of wood strung together. It was a testament to a life rooted in purpose and patience. It symbolized the belief that even the smallest seeds can create something extraordinary.

An original report exists in Guitar World, which you can find here!

Jimmy Carter: The Country Music President

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Presented by benandsteve.com By: Benjamin Groff II©

2–3 minutes

The year was 1977, and Jimmy Carter had just taken the oath of office. A peanut farmer from Georgia, he brought a unique sensibility rooted in his Southern upbringing and a deep love for American culture, particularly country music. This unique combination of his Southern roots and his love for country music not only shaped his personal life but also influenced his presidency, allowing him to connect with the struggles and joys of everyday Americans.

Waylon Jennings Family

When he stepped into the White House, Carter made it clear that the arts, especially music, would have a place of honor in his administration. He often reminisced about listening to gospel and country music on the family radio back in Plains, Georgia, where the soulful twang of artists like Hank Williams and the Carter Family resonated with the struggles and joys of everyday Americans, a sentiment he deeply shared.

One evening, during a White House dinner, Carter invited Willie Nelson to perform on the South Lawn. The night was balmy, and as the country star strummed his guitar under a canopy of stars, Carter took the opportunity to speak.

White House Photo – Carter Library

“Country music,” he said, “is the heart and soul of America. It tells the story of our struggles, faith, and hope.”

Carter’s admiration wasn’t just lip service. He actively promoted the genre, ensuring it received the recognition it deserved as an integral part of American culture. He invited artists like Loretta Lynn, Johnny Cash, and Dolly Parton to the White House. He even arranged for country music showcases at international events to share a slice of Americana with the world. His unwavering efforts significantly influenced the genre’s rise to mainstream respectability during the late 20th century.

Bill Anderson with The Carters

But Carter’s legacy extended far beyond his love of country music. He brokered the Camp David Accords, a landmark peace agreement between Egypt and Israel that demonstrated his diplomacy skills and commitment to global peace. He championed human rights globally, making them a cornerstone of U.S. foreign policy. He also pushed for energy conservation, installing solar panels on the White House roof long before climate change became a widely recognized issue.

After leaving office, Carter’s achievements only grew. He founded The Carter Center, dedicated to promoting democracy, fighting disease, and mediating conflicts worldwide. His work eradicating diseases like Guinea worm, even in his post-presidential years, demonstrated his enduring compassion and determination to make the world better.

As for country music, Carter’s genre promotion left a lasting legacy. Many country artists credited him with helping to elevate their art to a global stage. Even decades later, when asked about his presidency, Carter would smile and say,

“If I could broker peace and get people to tap their feet to country music, then I’ve done my job.”

Jimmy Carter’s presidency may not have been perfect. Still, his love for the arts, his commitment to peace, and his tireless work for humanity made him a leader whose legacy resonates far beyond the Oval Office.

Otis, the Guardian of the Pack

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3–4 minutes

From the moment Ben and Steve walked into the shelter, Otis knew they were his people. It wasn’t just how they crouched down to his level. It was the warmth in their eyes and the promise in their voices.

“You’re coming home with us,”

Steve had said. Otis had wagged his tail so hard he nearly toppled over. He vowed then and there to be the best protector any family ask for.

Life in his new home was nothing short of paradise. Otis had a cozy bed by the fireplace, more toys than he can chew, and an endless supply of love. But what truly mattered to him was his duty to keep Ben and Steve safe. He took it upon himself to investigate every rustle in the bushes, every knock at the door. No leaf dared to blow towards his masters without Otis standing his ground.

Otis’s vigilance, nevertheless, had its challenges. After one too many encounters with a growling Otis, the mail carrier learned to toss packages from a distance. Neighborhood passerby’s hoped drop off leaflets and country club newsletters. They were met with a flurry of barks so fierce they often retreated before reaching the door.

Things came to a head one sunny Saturday when their neighbor Marlene, visited. Otis had met her once before and didn’t trust her an inch. She was too loud, animated, and far too close to his people to his liking. When Marlene leaned in to hug Steve, Otis darted between them, barking his warning. Steve scooped him up, carrying him to the laundry room for a “time out.”

“Otis, you need to relax,”

Steve said, his voice equal parts exasperation and affection. Otis stared back, unconvinced. Who would protect them if he wasn’t on duty?

During one memorable stormy night, Otis proved why his protectiveness wasn’t just a quirk—it was his calling. The wind howled, rain lashed against the windows, and the house creaked under the storm’s force. Otis lay at the foot of the bed, his ears perked. Suddenly, a loud crash echoed from the backyard.

Ben and Steve bolted upright. Otis was already off the bed. He growled as he raced to the source of the noise. They found him at the patio door. He barked furiously at a tree branch. The branch had broken off and slammed into the house. While it wasn’t an intruder, Otis’s readiness reassured them that no danger would catch them off guard.

Over time, Ben and Steve learned to appreciate Otis’s protective nature and quirks. They worked with a trainer to help him distinguish between threats and friendly visitors, but his fierce loyalty never wavered. Otis accepted his ‘time outs’ with dignity. He understood that even the most dedicated guardians needed to let their pack relax occasionally.

Otis knew one thing for certain in his heart. Ben and Steve had rescued him from a lonely life. He would spend every day making sure they were loved, protected, and never alone. His love for them was as deep as the ocean, and his loyalty as unyielding as the mountains.

You can welcome a pet into your life if you have the love and resources. Reach out to your local animal shelter. Explore adoption if you’re ready for this commitment. Before taking this step, make sure your heart and home have plenty of space. Your budget should also be ready to support a forever family member. A new family member is waiting for you!

A Dog Will Always Keep You Honest – Truly!

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Presented by benandsteve.com By: Benjamin Groff II©

2–4 minutes

They will always find ways to expose the truth whenever it is necessary. A dog will keep you honest because they are always watching you. They know everything you do. They hear everything you say.

Take, for example, Otis, a Jack Russell Terrier with soulful eyes and a tail that wagged like a metronome. Otis belonged to Ben and Steve, who pride themselves on being organized and composed. But Otis saw through it all. He knew when Steve “accidentally” skipped the morning bike ride. Steve chose instead to lounge in his recliner with a cup of coffee. Steve tried to cover up his lapse in discipline. He mentioned a “hectic morning” to explain his work demands. Otis carried the bike shorts he had abandoned by the door into the middle of the living room. His silent reproach was explicit.

Dogs, after all, have a way of sniffing out the truth—not just with their noses but with their instincts. Otis had a keen sense of timing. He knew when Ben told little white lies to his mother over the phone. Ben claimed his last doctor’s appointment suggested he was healthy. Meanwhile, he was polishing off a bag of chips. Otis would sit by his feet. He stared intently, daring Ben to admit to the salty crunch he tried to hide. Finally, Ben conceded and gave Otis a chip. He did it to keep Otis quiet during the phone conversation.

But Otis’s honesty wasn’t just about catching lies. He had an uncanny ability to bring clarity to the chaos. One summer, Ben and Steve’s neighbor, Mary, argued about a missing garden gnome. Steve assured Mary they hadn’t seen it. Yet, when they let Otis out that evening, he returned with the gnome in his jaws, proudly wagging his tail. Maybe Ben and Steve had borrowed it. Or Otis had “borrowed” it himself. The truth stood on four legs, panting happily.

Otis also kept Steve honest about his emotions. When Steve plastered on a smile for his colleagues after a lousy day, Otis knew better. He’d gently nudge Steve’s arm. Sometimes, he laid his head on Steve’s lap. This grounded Steve with the companionship that didn’t tolerate pretending. Dogs don’t care for masks; they prefer the raw, unfiltered you.

And that’s the magic of a dog’s honesty. They don’t demand perfection—they demand authenticity. They hold you accountable not with judgment but with love. Otis didn’t care if Steve skipped a bike ride. He didn’t care if Ben ate chips or if there had been a misplaced garden gnome. What mattered was that they learned to face the truth. It was messy, but they became a better version of themselves because of it. Otis is a good boy, and he proved it, by helping others be good!

A dog will always keep you honest because they never stop believing in the good in you. They don’t just witness your life—they join in it, gently guiding you toward honesty in ways only a dog can.

If you have room in your heart and home for a pet, consider visiting your local animal shelter. These shelters hold loving animals waiting for a second chance to find their forever family. Adopting a pet changes their life and brings warmth, joy, and companionship to your own. A new furry friend can be the missing piece that turns your house into a proper home.