Grandpa was a simple man, to be sure. A man of a bygone era. We call it the Greatest Generation, but we do not mean it for a second! For not one of their values do we continue to hold; not one of their morals do we continue to esteem; not one of their ethics do we continue to regard. Grandpa is a relic and his memory but a fossil; they are simply reminders of things from long ago which no longer have any consequence. His life was a vapor, and all the whisps have vanished. The preacher was dea...

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November 15, 1997 to November 15, 2017

Today marks the twentieth anniversary of the death of my grandfather, Jerry Osborne. It seems both a moment and an eternity that I have been without him. I can still hear the sound of his voice. I can still hear the sound of his laugh, and the way he would even snort sometimes when the joke was funny enough. His mannerisms are still vibrant in my memory, as are his idiosyncrasies. The very last time I saw him alive was at the Los Angeles International A...

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I was very close to my grandparents, ever at their house or the church they had built together. Hardly a day could pass in my life when I did not see them. We did so much together. I remember Sunday afternoon lunches and mountain vacations; I remember spending the night at their house, watching X-files with them, and making homemade ice-cream for the Fourth of July! When I played football they were in the stands; and when I had an old broken down car to fix up, grandpa was there to hel...
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There was a time in this country when political affiliation had no correlation with Church attendance. (See “Welcome To Pergamos”) Those in the pew were diverse in their politics, and the church one attended was statistically insignificant as a measure of voting habits. But such is not the case today, as church attendance has become a major factor in predicting whether one will vote republican or conservative; so in this political climate I am indeed an enigma to some. I have loved ones w...
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I remember my Grandpa… he would have been 84 today! The years have started to pile up over my life with him and my memories of him. Has it really been 15 years since I last saw him? One look in the mirror tells me it has. I fear there are things forgotten, and yet there so many things I still remember. The mind is a funny thing. We remember what we remember most often, and forget the subtleties which we infrequently or ever think about or speak of. I can tell you about my Grandpa, but I’l...
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As usual on this day each year, I write to commemorate the legacy of my grandfather, Jerry Osborne. Lately, I have been researching and writing a biography on his life as the founding pastor of Community Bible Church in Norwalk, California. As I have been pouring over the details of his life, I came across a letter written to him posthumously, delivered to him as a eulogy of sorts at his funeral. I have partially reprinted the letter for preservation here from a photocopy. I believe the origi...
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The air is sharp and chilled
Tho’ not because it’s cold
The days are short and filled
Tho’ not with joys of old
It’s just another Christmas without Grandpa

He used to read a story to us
In person, or on the phone
T’was The Night Before Christmas
I can still hear his baritone
It’s just another Christmas without Grandpa

He would read the Old, Old Story
As we gathered ‘round and settled in
Every year on Christmas morning
From his Bible he’d begin
It’s just another Christmas w...
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[Actually posted on October 25, 2010]
It was dark, pitch black, as we drove through the mountains. Only a toddler, I stood between my grandparents and exclaimed, “Speeky, Grandpa, speeky!” But all was well with him at the wheel. I had no reason to be afraid with Grandpa there, and for the rest of my life I looked up to the man who saw me safely through  those scary mountain roads.

As a boy, I would sit with my mother in a church pew on Sunday nights and listen to Grandpa preach. Sometimes I...
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Though I've always wished I was a cool guitar player or a a rock'n roll drummer, I've never been able to gather enough coordination to actually fulfill those dreams. Be that as it may, I do like to write, and sometimes I'm even pretty good at it, or so I'm told. I'm certainly not some amazing lyicist, but I hope one day my Rock Star brother, Nathanael, will take his talents as a musician and put some music to these humble lyrics, even fixing up the words if need be. Until then, I hope this "s...
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