What happened to 2009?

While 2009 ended really bad, with my Dad, my Aunt, and my Mother-in-law all passing away in December, leaving me with a head full of brain fog, the year wasn't a total disaster.

Some things really lifted my spirit through the whole year. Facebook just added a lot of joy to the year. I loved high school. Shoot, I even loved grade school.
As a result I enjoy reconnecting with old friends from school.I met a ton of old friends from school, and even old church friends that I am now able to stay in contact with. A few months ago I got a friend request with a note asking if I was Deon Unthank who attended Wilson Grade School in East Saint Louis, IL back in 19XX. I replied that I was and low and behold my old friend David, whom I haven't seen or heard from in probably 50 years had made contact with me. Wow, did we shared some memories. I found an old friend from jr. high school who dropped out of school at her sophomore year and I hadn't seen or heard from her in 46 years. I found a lot of high school friends and I love to hear how their lives turned out. Some have gone on to be as successful as I thought they would be, and I'm sure that others thought, "Gee, I thought Deon would be much more successful than he is". The best thing is that I have more hair than some of those really good looking guys from high school. I found the first Tenor for the Sunday Edition. I found a high school friend who is really in to showing pure breed dogs. I thought that was really interesting. Some of the girls from high school still look pretty good, but some of my old girlfriends make me really appreciate the wonderful woman I married. Facebook has been great.

2009 was a fairly good year for the Sunday Edition because we were busier than the year before and I think our sound has matured a little. We stumbled upon Glen Bates last year as a song writer. I knew Glen, but not so much as a songwriter. Well, Glen took an interest in writing some songs for us and all I can say is WOW. Thanks Glen for listening to God about writing, and about writing some songs for us. Glen was a true blessing to me in 2009.

In 2009, I discovered the Food Channel. Since Susan can no longer make her way around the kitchen, I am the cook in this family. I have learned so much about cooking from the food channel that I am just having a ball experimenting. Susan may not be as happy about some of my experiments, but the dogs love the leftovers.


As bad as 2009 ended for me, as I look back and see that the year wasn't a total waste. Thank you Lord for your blessings on me. (Now that would be a good song)

Indulge me one more time

If you will indulge me one more time to talk about my Dad's passing, I promise I will be much cheerier next month. It's nothing morbid I promise.
Most of you know that I like to talk about my dog, Winston, in my blogs,so let me start with:

While I was out walking Winston on the day after I learned of my Dad's passing, a voice as clear as if I were talking to you say, What if this is it? What if everything your Dad taught you about the Lord is wrong? What if he has just entered into nothing and there is no Heaven and no life hereafter. To lay a little ground work let me say that I was saved when I was 8 years old, so after living a life of faith for 54 years and the devil is still trying to convince me that this whole Christian thing is not real and I'm just wasting my time.

You can always count on ole slewfoot to attack you at your weakest moment. I just lost my Dad, I was depressed and very sad, so what a time to hit me with those thoughts. I have to admit that I thought about it for a few moments. That thought did enter my mind, what if I am wrong, what if there is no hope.
Thank goodness those thoughts lasted only a few minutes, for the Holy Spirit welled up within me and filled my mind with another thought. Paul said in 1Cor 15
;19 says "If in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are of all men most miserable.". As usual that ole devil was giving part of the truth. If I and my Dad have lived this Christian life and he died and there is nothing else, then we are surely miserable. Think of all the fun we could have had, all the money we could have made, and all the wild drunken parties we could have shared in. Isn't that what the world calls fun and success? If we lived this Christian life following as best we could the example of Christ then wouldn't some people see our lives as a waste.

My mind then started to thinking. I know that is usually dangerous, but this time it was OK. It occurred to me that I can choose to believe what the devil said and live life with as much gusto as I can for as much momentary pleasure as I can find. Then when it's over, I just go into the ground and that's it. Wow, I should be depressed. However, I can choose to believe in Christ who offers me hope of not only a good life here, but an eternal life after this one ends. I can choose to believe that my Dad is rejoicing on the streets of Glory as I write this blog. I can choose to believe that when it comes my time, I will enter into Heaven to join them. That ole devil forgot to tell me the rest of the story. He forgot to tell me that because Jesus defeated death, I don't have to fear where I will go after I die. He forgot to tell me that when Jesus faced death he cried out in pain and agony so I won't have to.

I choose to live by faith where I have hope of better things to come.

A time to reflect

As I sit here at my keyboard, fighting back the tears from the news that my Dad will not be with us much longer, I find myself reflecting on the past events of my life where my where my Dad was involved. Though he will never read this, I want to say it before he makes his move to Heaven. Please bear with me while I share some very private thoughts.

As far back as I can remember my Dad has always been a man's man. He weighed 122 pounds in high school, yet was on the boxing team. He was a Ranger in World War II. He was very private about those war days and even when I would press him, he just wouldn't go in to it. He said it was too personal. Dad was a painter and paperhanger for most of his life, though I can remember him talking about working at a grocery store after he and my Mother were first wed. He made 25 cents an hour back them. He took work wherever he could get it, but painting would be his life's work. He started helping my Grandfather paint houses at 12 years old. He worked painting water towers and smoke stacks, up 250 to 300 feet in the air. In the end, he settled down working for my Grandfather along with his brother. When my Grandfather passed away, my Dad ran the business keeping it in my Grandmother's name, while he just took an hourly wage, allowing my Grandmother to keep supported by the company that her husband founded.

I just wanted to lay a foundation of the type of man that my Dad has been. While he ran the business for my Grandmother, he still physically worked painting and only got paid for the actual hours he spent holding a brush in his hand. To keep the business going, he would bid on jobs after he put his 8 hours a day in and never took a dime for that. As you can tell he was a man putting in a lot of hours. I say that, because when the church doors were open, he was there. Sunday morning, Sunday night, and Wednesday night. If there was a revival going on, he was there every night. Oh, he never went alone. My Mother was always with him and they drug me and my two sisters to church every time the doors were open too. He didn't just send us to church, he TOOK us to church.

Not only did he take us to church, but whenever there was a school program for us kids, he was there. I begged and pleaded for him to sign the papers so I could play Khoury League baseball and he finally gave in. Maybe he resisted letting me join the baseball league, because he know the commitment that it was going to take. You see, he didn't just sign the paper to sign me up, my Dad took me to every practice and stayed there until we were done, and then we would take home three or four of the guys whose Dad didn't come tho their practice. He didn't just go to my games and practices, but he was out in the yard playin catch with me, so I could improve my game.When I joined the band, he made payments on my trombone so I could play it in the band, and then he would attend every program we did. Then I had to play football. I started in Junior High School and he was at football practice as soon as he got off work and again, we would take home soe of the other kids. He was at every game, even though he's have to take off an hour early from work to get to the game. I was first string in Junior High and I think he was proud of me. As a Sophomore I dropped down to second string, but he was still there, watching me sit on the benchf for a good portion of the game. As a Junior in High School I dropped yet again to third string, but my Dad was still htere at practice and the games watching me sit on the bench a lot more. Finally, my senior year, a miracle happened and I made first string again. I was the starting center, and again my Dad was there cheering me on.

My Dad did much more than that. He didn't let me get away with much. He kept a tight leash on me, but as a result, I was never in trouble as a kid. I was never hurt as a kid because I was in a place where I shouldn't have been. The few times I did stray, my Dad knew how to use a belt on the place where it can be used for discipline. Yes, my Dad spanked me, no he whipped me, and I think I am the better man for it. He taught me not to lie or steal or cheat. In business, he taught me to do and give more than my customer is paying for. I have tried hard to follow that advise. My Dad took the time to teach me the trade of painting and wallpaper hanging. It's not easy training your son to do a real job. I'm sure that I tried his patience many times, but when he was done, I could walk into any painting company and work without any problem. Before I retired from painting, there were many times that I wished I could have picked my Dad's brain on tricks of the trade, but dementia had already taken that away.

Still further in my life, I saw my Dad praying. I saw him praying at home, and at church. I saw him giving what talents he had to the church. When the church needed painting, my Dad would donate all of his labor to the church. When hard times hit, I can remember him and my Mother taking food or money to the Pastor's house, just to help them out.

I'm hoping you can see by now the huge model that I needed to live up to. Unfortunately, I haven't done as good as my Dad. I only know my failures because of the light he has shown me live by. While I made most of my kids games and practices, there were times that work got in the way and I didn't make it. I joined the Air Force and sat behind a typewriter for 6 years, so that's not quite like being an Army Ranger.

I can only pray that when my end of time comes that my kids will be able to say that they saw Jesus in me, as I have seen in my Dad.

This bothers me

In light of the terrorist shooting last week at Fort Hood, One thing is being said that really bothers me. Don't get me wrong, I believe that this was an act of the Islamic war against Christians, and I believe it's only going to get worse. This man is a dedicated Muslim and unfortunately the part of the Muslim religion that says "kill the infidels" does not work well in a nation built on Christian/Judeo principles.

I said, one thing bothers me, actually there is a lot of what the liberal media has said about this that bothers me, but the one thing that really bothers me is coming from the conservative media and website discussions.A business card was found in the shooter's room that has three letters on it, SOA.
SOA stand for Soldier Of Allah. Now while this certainly identifies him as a fanatical Muslim, we must be careful in what we are saying about this.

Three Bridges had a song a few years back that put them on the map. The song went all the way to number 5 on the charts and was the number 1 song played on radio for that year. Southern Gospel fans got excited about this song, and every time I have seen them perform it, there is a standing ovation and they have to do several encores. I have not met a Christian who did not identify with this song. The name of the song? "I Am A Soldier In The Army Of The Lord". I still remember the children s song taught to me in my Sunday School classes that said "'I'm In The Lord's Army".

In our era of political correctness, we must be extremely careful that we don't give the secularists in our country ammunition that can be used on us later to make us look like we are no different than Muslims who would like to destroy everything we stand for.

FaceBook - don’t be a snob

I've had several people who are just fans of SGM tell me that they feel snubbed by some major artists on Facebook. It seems that their friend requests are denied by some artists. I think a couple of things need to be addressed about this issue.

First, Facebook is a great place for networking. I've reacquainted myself with many old friends from my earliest years in school to my earliest years in Southern Gospel Music. I've made many new friends who have come out to see us in concert. I've met new friends that I have gone to see in concert when they came close.
Other than taking up too much of my time (according to my wife), I have found Facebook to be very positive. Do I have Facebook friends who I do no know, and may never know on a personal basis? Sure, but what does it hurt, especially with the possibility of making a booking in the future, or selling a CD or two. I think we can agree that for networking, Facebook is a pretty good thing.

So the second thing I want to address is, why would artists, no matter how big or small want to offend any fans. Artists need to be careful that they are not insensitive to the people who just love your music. When they are rejected as a friend by their favorite artists, they take it very personal. You, as an artist, may not know them, but they have seen you at concerts, probably spoken to you at your product table, and those fans feel that they know you. I say let's be as polite on Facebook as we would be at the product table. Just because they are not standing right in front of you at a concert does NOT mean that they are not STILL you fans.

It’s my dog again

I'm amazed that I am constantly learning spiritual lessons from my dogs. What's with that? This time it involves his new leash.
Winston is our puppy that my kids got us for Christmas last year. Winston is a Boxer/Great Dane mix, so while he was only
10 months old at NQC, At a mere 95 pounds he can be a handful if you let him get in control. He's probably the most people
friendly dog I've ever had, so the handful is not his personality, but his size and strength.

When I take him out for walks, I keep him on a 6 foot leash and he walks very close beside my, plus I use a pincher collar,
so he is very easy to control. Just a simple tug with my fingers on the leash is enough to get my message to him. I normally
use a heavy duty 16 foot leash to take him out to do his "business". I also bought him a 26 foot leash for training purposes.
As fate would have it, just before we left for NQC, his 16 foot leash became frayed, so I took the 26 foot leash instead. Big mistake.

I guess by now, your wondering how this taught me a spiritual lesson. Well here it is. Even though I'm, well over twice the weight
of Winston, by the time he trots out 26 feet ahead of me and sees something interesting (like a bug) that he wants to investigate.
it feels like he is about to separate my arm from my body. As I'm putting my arm back into it's joint, the thought hits me. I should
have brought the shorter leash, because he is so much easier to reign in with that leash. Then my brilliant brain went to me and God.
When Winston is at the end of 26 feet, I have to really yank on that leash, just to get his attention. Now I'm sure that this is at least
uncomfortable and maybe even a little painful, not to mention that it takes much more effort on my part. Just how much of a pain am
I to God when I stray to the end of my spiritual leash.

If I'm walking close to my Master, just like being on a short leash, He doesn't have to raise his voice or yell at me, and a gentle tug
on the leash gets my attention and I follow Him with no struggle and no pain.In fact, I can look up at my Master and see His smiling face
and recognize that look that says He is proud of me. I have found that after I have walked Winston for a while on that short leash, I can
drop the leash altogether and he continues to walk right next to me, telling me that he enjoys the relationship between us walking so close
together. On the other hand, if I am walking at the end of my leash, as far away from God as I can get, when He has to pull me back in line,
either because of danger, or because I've gotten way out of His will, the force of that tug is much stronger, sometimes even hurting.

Before I get to hard on myself I have to remember that God has put trust in me to let me out on the long leash. He wants me to enjoy
as much of life as I can. I also have to remember that there is another one out there who seeks only to temp us, kill us, or destroy us.
The reason God has to tug so hard to get us back is that our attention is no longer on Him. When I am out on that long leash my back is
usually away from Him, so I am easily distracted by the bugs of life.

“...Through The Rockets Red Glare…”

It's July 4th, right after some thunderstorms had passed through and I heard a large number of pops and bangs coming from outside. I stepped out the door to see a brilliant display of fireworks set off as people were trying to use the window of time between storms to shoot off their fireworks. It was a beautiful sight. The first thought that crossed my mind was the I had seen a similar sight on the tellevision a few years before as our planes were bombing Sadam Hussein's military forts at the beginning of the Iraqi War. My mind was also taking me back to the times through the past 233 years that our brave men and women have fought to keep our freedoms in place.

I thought that this must have been what Francis Scott Key was seeing as we were declaring our freedom from England and what a beautiful sight it must have been to him. No wonder he wrote the words, "through the rockets red glare, the bombs bursting in air, gave proof to the night that our flag was still there". What a beautiful sight it must have been to the Iraqis who were dreaming of having their own freedom. Nothing in this life worth having is really free. It cost somebody something, and when it comes to freedom, it most always costs brave citizens their lives.

So, making a long story very short, watching the fireworks in my neighborhood really made me stop and think about how blessed we still are as a Nation. We spit ion God's face with our acceptance of homosexuality, we stick our thumb in His eye with our acceptance of abortion, we rub it in His face that our leaders can't even say that we are a Christian Nation, and He still loves us and blesses us. Because of the fact that God still loves us and still blesses us, we can all still say that we live in the greatest country in the world

I Graduated

It's been eight long weeks coming, but I finally did it. I graduated. I'm sure you're saying, you're 61 years old, you should have graduated a long time ago.
Oh, yeah, many years ago, I graduated from high school and apprenticeship school, but now I have graduated from Obedience School. No, Susan didn't take me there. Winston, my six month old Boxer/Great Dane mix completed obedience training. We ran through our accomplishments as he responded to the commands of "come", "sit", "down", "stand", "leave it", and "stay". That all sounds pretty simple until your in an enclosed wire ring with all kinds of strangers walking by distracting your dog.

All in all, it was a great experience, as one of the ladies who was in the class with me commented on how she could really tell a difference in how Winston has grown and how the bond between us have developed. So, now, as soon as I can get the next class fee saved up, Winston and I are off the the Intermediate Class where they will again instruct my dog, and train me. Winston came through with flying colors. I, on the other hand, still have trouble getting the right commands to come out of my mouth.

It's nice to say that I have finally accomplished something.

He just lays there

My son walked in a few days before Christmas with a ball of fur in his hands and said "Merry Christmas". As most of you know, I am my wife's caregiver, and we already have a 12 year old blind Cock-a-poo dog, so the thought of adding a puppy wasn't real keen to me. Since you can't really say NO to a Christmas present I took on the added responsibility. Of course as much as I hate to admit it, "Winston" and I have bonded and are now pretty much inseparable.

When I do leave the house he lays at the front door waiting for me to return. BTW, dd I mention that this cute little 8 pound furball that my son brought in, is not 5 months old and weighs 60 pounds. So when I try to open the door, I have to shove 60 pounds (and counting) out of the way. I got to thinking how nice it is too have someone or something love you that much, that every time you leave, their absolutely lost in the thought of waiting for you unti you come back. What an honor. What dedication. What love.

As I was pondering over this situation the other day the Lord seemed to point out to me, that every time we walk away from Him, He is patiently waiting for us to come back home. No matter if we've just left for some "fun and sun" and just decided to stay on the beach on Sunday, or if we have let what someone said come between us and Him, He's there waiting for us to come back home. What love, what dedication that our Heavenly Father cares so much about us that He never gives up on us, but rather just lovingly waits for us to return. What an Honor to serve such a God, a God who created this whole universe, who designed every organ in us to make such an outstanding, intricate machine as the human body, and yet, He waits patiently for us to come back home to Him.

I can tell you that Winston is not perfect, he's just a dog. He still has accidents, he still barks at times when I don't want him to, but he still shows me unconditional love. We serve a great God who is perfect and though we are just human, he shows us unconditional love. I take care of Winston by feeding him, making sure he has water and a nice warm bed to lay in, and giving him as much attention as I can, so I guess I could say that I sort of earn part of that unconditional love that he gives to me. With God, it is a different story. There's nothing that I can do to be worthy of His unconditional love. He just loves me, because He does, so I think that from now on, every time I see where I've let the world get between me and God, I'm going to get back home to Him as fast as I can, because I know that He is waiting for me to come home.

My new President

There is one thing that goes right through me, concerning Presidential elections. When George W. Bush was first elected a very Democrat Southern Gospel singer and I were discussing the election and this fellow explicitly told me that Bush was NOT his President. During this campaign season, I was at a McDonald's Hamburger joint and found myself in a political discussion and again a fellow told me that Bush was NOT his President. I couldn't hold I back any more, I bluntly told this guy that we only have ONE President and at that specific time George Bush was his President as much as he was my President.

Well, now the shoe is on the other foot. The man I pretty much disagree with everything he stands for has been elected President of our great Nation. I didn't vote for him, but let me tell you Barack H. Obama is MY President, and as a result of that fact, I am going to support him when I can, and disagree with him when I feel he's wrong, but he will be for at least the next four years, MY President. Because he is MY President, I am going to pray for him every day. I have found that I cannot show disrespect to a man I am praying for.