Blake Shelton paid tribute to his late friend Joe Bonsall, who passed away recently. Joe was a longtime member of The Oak Ridge Boys, a celebrated country and gospel group, from 1973 until his death in 2024.
On Tuesday, Blake, 48, shared a heartfelt photo on his Instagram Stories of himself performing alongside The Oak Ridge Boys. While the exact details of the photo’s location and date are unclear, Blake expressed his sorrow over Joe’s passing, saying: “I am deeply saddened to learn of the passing of my friend Joe Bonsall”.
He fondly recalled: “I have never seen Joe without a genuine smile on his face. He loved singing more than anyone I’ve ever met”. Blake extended his thoughts and prayers to Joe’s family and fellow bandmates, stating: “Today, we have all experienced the loss of someone truly important”.
In 2016, Blake and The Oak Ridge Boys collaborated on the song “Doing It to Country Songs”. Joe’s death was attributed to Lou Gehrig’s disease, or amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS), a progressive condition affecting voluntary muscle control, which has no known cure. Fans became aware of Joe’s struggle with the illness in January 2024, four years after he announced his condition and retirement from the band.
Joe is survived by his daughters, Jennifer and Sabrina, from his marriage to Mary Ann, as well as two grandchildren and two great-grandchildren. The Bonsall family shared in a statement that Joe authored 11 books, with his memoir, I See Myself, scheduled for release in November. He cherished his time at the farm and was a devoted fan of the Philadelphia Phillies, but emphasized that his faith and family were his greatest priorities.
The Oak Ridge Boys, consisting of Joe, Richard Sterban, Duane Allen, and William Lee Golden, are famous for hits like “Elvira”, “Come On In” and “Bobbie Sue”. The band was inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame in 2015 and has won five Grammy Awards. As the group embarks on a farewell tour that will last for about a few month, they reflect on their legacy, despite the original lineup no longer being intact. Joe’s love for music, reading, and writing, along with his skills on the banjo, will be fondly remembered by fans and loved ones alike.
I Came Home from Vacation to Find a Huge Hole Dug in My Backyard – I Wanted to Call the Cops until I Saw What Was at the Bottom
When I cut short our vacation due to Karen falling ill, the last thing I expected was to find a massive hole in our backyard upon returning home. Initially alarmed, I hesitated when I spotted a shovel inside, leading me into an unexpected adventure involving buried treasure, newfound friendship, and lessons in life’s true values.
Karen and I rushed back from the beach early after she fell ill. Exhausted but wary, I decided to check the house’s perimeter before settling in. That’s when I stumbled upon the gaping pit in our lawn.
“What’s this?” I muttered, approaching cautiously.
At the bottom, amid scattered debris, lay a shovel. My first instinct was to call the police, but then I considered the possibility that the digger might return, knowing we were supposed to be away.
Turning to Karen, who looked unwell, I suggested keeping the car hidden in the garage to maintain the appearance of absence.
As night descended, I kept vigil by a window, watching and waiting. Just as I was about to give up, I spotted a shadow vaulting over our fence.
Heart pounding, I ventured out with my phone ready to call the authorities. Approaching the pit, I heard the clink of metal on earth.
“Hey!” I exclaimed, shining my phone’s light into the hole. “What do you think you’re doing?”
The figure looked up, squinting. My jaw dropped—it was George, the previous owner of our house.
“Frank?” he stammered, equally surprised. “What are you doing here?”
“I live here, remember?” I retorted. “What are you doing in my yard in the middle of the night?”
George climbed out, looking sheepish. “I can explain. Just… please don’t involve the police.”
Arms folded, I demanded an explanation.
“My grandfather owned this place,” George began, “and I recently discovered he hid something valuable here. I thought I’d dig it up while you were away.”
“You broke into my yard to hunt for treasure?” I couldn’t believe it.
“I know how it sounds,” George pleaded, “but it’s true. Help me dig, and we’ll split whatever we find.”
Despite my better judgment, I agreed. Over hours of digging, we shared stories, George revealing his hardships—a lost job and his wife’s illness. His hope for this treasure to change their lives touched me.
As dawn approached, our optimism dwindled with each shovel of dirt revealing nothing but rocks and roots.
“I was so sure…” George’s disappointment was palpable.
Offering a ride home, we filled the pit and drove to his house, where his wife, Margaret, greeted us anxiously.
“George! Where have you been?” Margaret exclaimed, eyeing me curiously.
Explaining the situation, George’s dream of buried treasure was deflated by Margaret’s reality check.
“My grandfather’s tales were just that—stories,” she gently reminded him.
Apologizing, George and Margaret offered to repair our yard. I declined, suggesting they join us for dinner instead.
Driving home, I shared the night’s escapade with Karen, who teased me about my unusual night with a stranger. Reflecting on our conversation, I proposed inviting George and Margaret for dinner—an unexpected outcome from a night of digging for imaginary treasure.
As I assessed the yard in daylight, I realized life’s treasures aren’t always what we seek but the connections we forge along the way.
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