Comments

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  George Hendley November 25, 2008 at 2:28pm

  Hello Billy,
  Long time...very long time and it's good to see your face again. Be well and keep up the writing. You can find me in lots of places, here to start with.
  Blessings and Peace to you,
  GH
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  David Bailey November 2, 2008 at 5:03pm

  A New Yorker in AL! That sounds like a Brit in TN. Wow times have changed.
  So many mems of you Billy. I think there was a good one in there somewhere!
  Luv ya Billy...btw. working on a CD.
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  Sandy Ferguson October 17, 2008 at 3:00am

  Good to hear from you... Actually, I'm not too far away from you. We have a home office in Atlanta and spend more time here than Saigon so we should get together.. Where are you exactly?
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  Sandy Ferguson October 12, 2008 at 8:15am

  Rural Alabama? Damn Billy, that's a ways from NYC but much more rewarding than usual... Steve Budlong referred me to this site but I was reluctant to folow on it until I saw your name... Is that the same wife you had when I visited you in Miami so many years back? I remember clearly your house as it was the first time I had seen a screened swimming pool! Still making music for a living? Sandy
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  Lonnell Johnson October 7, 2008 at 10:29am

  Billy, My Brother,
  
  Let me first of all apologize for not getting back with you sooner. I was deeply touched by your comments, and I wrote an extensive response in the early a.m. a couple of nights ago. I was getting ready to attach some poetry, and somehow I hit the wrong key, and blip! All that I had typed disappeared from the screen. This has happened before, and it’s always so frustrating. It was too late, and I was too tired to start over again at the time. Here I am now. . . this time I’m typing out my comments to which I will attach the poetry, and I’ll cut and paste that entry into the comments on your webpage.
  
  As I said, I was moved by your heartfelt comments, and I was reflecting upon the good old days all along The Way, I happened to think of a coffee house where we both shared. I’m not sure if it was in North Carolina or in Ohio specifically, but I do recall that I read some of my “stuff,” and you sang the blues. None of the particulars come to mind at this time other than that I recall it was a wonderfully warm occasion which I thought of as I read your words. As I thought about your passion for music and your appreciation of the blues as an art form, I thought you might appreciate this poem in light of your comments about my poetry. It is a poetic reflection inspired by recollections of a visit from my parents when I lived in Washington, DC, a couple of years before joining the Way Corps back in 1971. I have come to appreciate the poem and the fond memories that it evokes, but I have gained an even deeper appreciation and celebration of the blues, which I touched upon in greater depth through a multimedia presentation called “Just What Is the Blues” which was part of the African American literature classes I formerly taught at Otterbein College and elsewhere. So . . . here’s to you my long lost brother and fellow “wordsmith.” May you be blessed as you reflect with me.
  
  “Quiet as it’s kept. . .”
  Quiet as it’s kept, Daddy loved the blues.
  I remember the time back in the day when Dad could still drive,
  and drive he did most of the way, not the whole way, but divided in half,
  stopping to spend the night in a motel in Pennsylvania
  somewhere about halfway between Gary, Indiana and DC
  “Ma-dear and Daddy” drove down to visit me one weekend over the 4th
  and we went down to festivities off Constitution Avenue
  in that “grassy as if it wanted wear” area near the Smithsonian.
  Strolling like nomads in and out of blue and white striped tents,
  seeking relief from the relentless blazing summer sun,
  we sampled the chicken and rib tips and fresh squeezed lemonade
  and finished off the feasting with a taste of the blues:
  a folk festival of sorts, featuring local blues singers
  and a quartet from Dad’s home state of Arkansas.
  We followed the crowd into this one wide tan canvas expanse,
  flaps raised and rolled up, wrapped all around the sides,
  like a revival tent without the sawdust.
  On the plywood stage covered with carpet remnants
  in a rickety wooden folding chair sat old Flora.
  She wasn’t blind but thick wire-rimmed glasses
  magnified her dark orbs that closed like doll’s eyes
  when she reared back her head and hollered.
  Flora was good, but she wasn’t quite like Robert,
  old Blind Robert that sang down in front of the Riggs Bank.
  He was blind for sure(think he was born that way),
  strumming and humming, and sliding that metal bar to up and down the guitar strings
  to lure folk into the tent to taste that thick authentic down home sound.
  Blind Robert show could sing. . . .
  Wonder why so many good blues singers be blind?
  Brother Ray and Stevie. . . Blind Lemon Jefferson,
  Blind Willie McTell,
  Blind Willie Johnson, Blind Blake n’nem;
  All the Blind Boys, from Mississippi and Alabama,
  All yall, I know yall see what it takes to show nuff sing the blues.
  Of course, my Daddy got the same name as a famous blues
  singer, Lonnie Johnson. I wonder what all that means, if anything.
  While the brothers from Arkansas was playing and singing,
  I’d glance over and catch Daddy nodding his head in agreement
  or see him smiling or simply breathing a sigh,
  like a tacit Amen or inner response that seemed to say,
  “You got that right.”
  We stood and watched and listened a good while
  before we left and continued to stroll from tent to tent.
  After a while, Daddy wanted to go back just one more time.
  My Daddy show did love him some blues that time in DC.
  Some say the blues is an acquired taste that you appreciate as you age
  As I have mellowed in the autumn of the years, I have come to enjoy the blues too.
  I just wish I could have shared this newfound fondness for blueness
  with my father back in the day, in my younger boppin doowop days,
  but I just couldn’t get into them down in the alley sad songs back then.
  I just didn’t know why the blues always be so sad.
  What did I know? What did I know?
  Now I know it takes a whole lot of living and
  a lot more loving and losing to appreciate the blues.
  Like the Lady say,
  You don’t know what love is
  Until you’ve learned the meaning of the blues
  Until you’ve loved a love you’ve had to lose
  You don’t know what love is
  Now I know just what Daddy meant when he nodded his head
  and sighed and wanted to go back just one more time.
  Quiet as it’s kept, my Daddy loved him some blues.
  
  Lonnell E. Johnson 4-22-05
  
  I also wanted to share another poem that I thought might bless you in light of the remarks you made about your mother who passed away not too long ago. I wrote the poem after my mother passed away in 2002, and she was preceded by father who fell asleep in 1996. I have shared it with others who have experience similar losses. Likewise, I trust that you will also be comforted by these words.
  
  
  When My Father and Mother
  When my father and my mother forsake me,
  Then the LORD will take me up.
  Psalm 27:10
  
  
  When my father and mother have forsaken me
  And have left behind a deep hole within my soul,
  When I seem alone, then the Lord will take me up.
  
  When I am without strength, the Lord will sustain me.
  Though I am blessed, I still know moments that disrupt
  When my father and mother have forsaken me.
  
  I rise on wings of joy but sorrow surrounds me.
  My flesh is weak and seems to prevail, though corrupt.
  When I seem alone, then the Lord will take me up.
  
  God sent His Word to strengthen and encourage me.
  Time prepares the heart, but the end is still abrupt
  When my father and mother have forsaken me.
  
  When disappointments seem to unfold before me,
  The thief comes only to distract and to interrupt.
  When I seem alone, then the Lord will take me up.
  
  Though I would reject it, I must taste the bitter cup,
  But beyond death’s door, Christ prepared a place for me.
  When my father and mother have forsaken me,
  When I seem alone, then the Lord will take me up.
  
  
  Lonnell E. Johnson
  
  Hey, Good Brother, I just wanted to let you know that I appreciate you, even as you shared the same regarding your appreciation for me. There is a Spanish expression that I often use in instances where I try to say that I feel the same way in a “me too” kind of way. That is to say, “igualmente” or “es mutual”) I thank God that our paths crossed the first time and that we’ve reconnected at this time.
  
  God bless,
  
  
  Lonnell
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  John Richeson September 22, 2008 at 12:53pm

  Hey Bill, You are all cleaned up, look like an executive. Great talking to you.
  
  BTW, blogs can now be seen on the main page. You have some good ones. They are sorted by most recent changes or posts. If you add to one it wil be seen on the main page along with most recently changed 10.
  
  Sorry to hear about your losing both parents in recent years. That's tough, man. They were good salt of the earth people.
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  Les Van Winkle August 1, 2008 at 4:08pm

  Wow! The Amazing and Incredible Billy Britt! It's good to see you here. It's great thinking back to those times at Rome City! You are the best, brother. Les
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  marc wilder June 22, 2008 at 1:30am

  Billy Britt, I have wondered many times how you were doing. I still have and use my nail set that was given to me by you in 1979. You know the gift you get for being in a wedding. Sorry about your mother. Your Mom and mine flew together out to Emporia together on the plane. It made my mother's trip so very special. She fell asleep in January 2001. We had some great Moms. I now Living in Concord, NC about mile from Lowe's Motor Speedway. Good to be alive and able to see your doing well. Marc Wilder
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  Cathy L Arias Johnson June 12, 2008 at 10:54am

  I remember you as a very intellegent, classy, sharp dressing, fire-in-your-belly kinda guy. I was in Miami when you became limb co-ordinator overnight. It was a big step yet you seemed to take it in stride.
  
  Glad to see you here!
  
  God bless,
  
  Cathy
  
  I have enjoyed reading your blog.
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  Chris Newcomb June 3, 2008 at 2:17pm

  Billy Britt? Yeow. What can I say? I am living in Maine, teaching, acting,writing, storytelling... basically having a pretty great time. This whole way corps thing is really odd. This is like opening a dark tunnel that's been closed for oh so many years. We'll see how it goes, huh?
  love to you brother.
  chris