My editorial of a just a few short weeks ago on the joys and blessings of springtime have brought about a couple little side stories, and I would like to share them with you.

First of all, along with the birds and flowers, it was Dottie Rambo who inspired me to share my deep feelings on my love of springtime. Now that April is past, and we are steaming on into May, perhaps a time of reflection is in order.

The Oak Ridge Boys taped a new television special at the end of March. The patriotic show, which is called Let Freedom Sing, is based on the music from our new album, COLORS (to be released May 20 by Spring Hill Music).

The special will be broadcast over many cable TV stations, such as PAX and WGN, throughout the summer of 2003 and beyond. We were honored to have President George Herbert Walker Bush tape the show’s introduction, as well as have the inherent association of our friends at Feed The Children. We hope the show will not only be uplifting but will raise money that will be used to help feed hungry children around the world.

Our album co-producer, Michael Sykes, was studying the final sound mix and video of the show recently, when legendary Gospel songwriter Dottie Rambo walked into his studio. The song on the screen was G.I. Joe and Lillie, as performed by your author and the rest of “the Boys.” As the song permeated the room, she sat next to Michael and began to weep.

“You know, I have never known that boy very well,” she said. “I have met him in passing over the years but I seem to know Duane, William, and Richard so much better than he. This song is wonderful, what a blessing, what tenderness.”

She proceeded to shed a few more tears, then prayed for me and left the studio. My good friend and associate Michael was so blown away with the moment that he called me immediately and shared this moving event.

I was, likewise, moved to tears because I have always believed that Dottie
Rambo is one of the greatest songwriters of our generation. To think that she was so moved by a song of mine was mind boggling to me. I felt so very humbled.

Dottie was right. She didn’t know me that well. I had never really had the opportunity to talk much with her over all of these years, but I love so many of her songs, and I found myself singing Come Spring (one of my favorites) for the next several days.

I just couldn’t get the song—or Dottie—out of mind. So I called her. What a blessed time we had. She was so sweet. She shared much of her life story with me. She told me about her songs and about her mother’s passing, which was the inspiration behind Come Spring.

I told her of my life and about G.I. Joe and Lillie, the song and the book. She asked me to pray for her because her health “wasn’t that good these days.” We laughed and we cried and then we prayed together.

Now, perhaps you can understand the reason I wrote my little springtime piece. I started writing it as soon as I hung up the phone that day. The next day I sent the essay, as well as a copy of G.I. Joe and Lillie, to Ms. Rambo.

Ah, but there is more… When you write a song or a poem or perhaps a book, you put your heart right out there on the table and always hope that there is a reason and a blessing in store for the work. I wrote Springtime and put it up on my website. About a week later, I asked my associate, Kathy Harris, to send it to a few local newspapers as sort of an OpEd piece.

I didn’t think much more about it until I received a call from Mildred.

Mary and I were on the farm, working hard, for about three days. When I wasn’t doing book interviews for G.I. Joe and Lillie, I spent hours at a time, dragging a six-foot, Woods finishing mower behind my small Deere 4300 or strapped to a Shindowa weed eater. One thing about spring…the grass and weeds explode like cruise missiles and here in the holler on the Monroe / Macon county line one had better keep it under control or the whole farm might disappear! Soon it would be time to tackle the big fields…but not yet!

I had just put the tractor in the barn when my wife, “Garden-Girl,” called me. “You have a message on the machine from Mildred. I sure haven't heard from her in awhile.”

Neither had I. Mildred was a casual acquaintance whom we had known for years. She shipped packages at a Pony Express store in Hendersonville when we first met her years ago. More recently, she was a waitress at the Gamiel diner and served Mary and I breakfast quite often. Always friendly, always smiling, always talking away about this or the other, the woman was a sheer joy, and we liked her a lot.

One day a few years ago she left the diner. We heard that she was working at the American Greetings plant in Lafayette but we weren’t sure. We had heard a year or so ago that she wasn’t doing well, but as you know, time moves on.

“Mildred? Wow, I haven't seen her for years…I better call her,” I said.

I called Mildred.

“Oh Joe, thanks for returning my call. I have had your number for five years and I finally used it. It is so nice to hear your voice; how are you guys?” she asked with that smile and laugh in her voice.

“What a sweetheart,” I thought.

“Mary and I and the Boys are all doing great, Mildred. How about you?”

“Joe, I have cancer and I am dying. I have been fighting it for two years now. I have had eleven operations in the past year alone and the chemo has worn me plumb out. The doctors have told me that I probably won’t see my
65th birthday this June.”

I was stunned. What a shame. I moved my lips to Mary. “Cancer…poor
Mildred.”

Mary sat down hard on the couch.

“I am sorry, Mildred. Anything I can do?”

“Oh, Joe, you already have, that is why I am calling,” she said, still seeming to be bubbling over with joy. “When my Tomkinsville News came yesterday, right there on page two was your article about springtime. It was just what I needed. I was feeling so down and your words really made me stop and think.

“I got right down on my knees and thanked God for His blessings and for this wonderful time of the year so filled with His love. After reading it, the flowers became brighter to me and the birds sang so much sweeter. Thank you and God bless you!”

So you see…you never know. Had Dottie Rambo not walked into Michael's studio at that time, she never would have thought of me and I would never have called her and spoken with her about her blessed song, Come Spring.

Without Dottie, that song would never have crossed my mind, and I might never have written the essay. If Kathy had not sent it to the Tomkinsville News, Mildred would never have seen it and called me at the farm.

Until her phone call, I didn’t even realize that the piece was published in that paper. I had no idea.

Perhaps God meant for Springtime by Joseph S. Bonsall, inspired by Dottie
Rambo, to be read by Mildred in Gamiel, Kentucky, that day so she would notice and appreciate His wondrous beauty here upon this earth just one more time before she makes her blessed trip to Heaven to be with Him.

Any doubts? None here! Celebrate life, and please, say a prayer for Dottie and Mildred. (JSB)