Brother Billy Bob Bohannon, 2110 Gateway Drive, Opelika, AL (2026)

04/14/2026

Bill King will do a concert of selected songs from his new book and a book signing at Lanier Baptist Church - LBC, Sunday, April 26, 3:00 Eastern.

12/22/2025

Billy Bob as Elvis and Willie Bob!

06/14/2025

Fifty Years Didn’t Take as Long as I Thought
It happened 50 years ago, on Saturday, June 14, 1975. I remember that day so well that it almost seems like it was last week, or at most the week before that! I remember that it rained that day, but it stopped prior to the wedding. As the song says, “Don’t blink, just like that your six years old and you take a nap, and you wake up and you’re twenty-five and your high school sweetheart becomes your wife.” Well, that’s close but it wasn’t exactly like that for us. We started dating the summer before Jean’s senior year, but I am slightly older than her and had already graduated, so we were never technically high-school sweethearts. We were both still in our teens when we exchanged vows and rings, but now it does seem like I blinked and 50 years has passed.
We didn’t simply answer a question with “I do” or “I will.” We memorized our vows and spoke them to one another. I was so afraid that I would forget the words that I unnecessarily taped a copy to the prayer bench. We held hands, looked each other in the eyes, and said, “I, Bill/Jean, take thee Jean/Bill, to be my wife/husband from this hour forward. I promise to love you, to be faithful to you in times of plenty and in times of want, in times of joy and in times of sorrow, in times of sickness and in times of health as long as we shall live.” Through prayer, and with help from God Almighty, we have managed to hold true to those 53 words for 50 years now. Not only have we loved one another during those years but our love is deeper now than we ever imagined possible. We have managed to faithfully keep those vows for half a century!
We have had times of plenty and times of want. In the early years, we had plenty…plenty of not much! We lived in college and seminary apartments our first six-years of marriage. We barely owned enough furniture to fill them up. We managed to not starve to death, but we did eat our fair share of peanut butter sandwiches and Spam! Do you know you can bake Spam in the oven, with a little brown sugar and cloves on it, and it miraculously turns into ham? An imagination can be a wonderful thing! We’ve never been rich, except in the things of God, but with His help we have always managed to have what we needed and even some things we probably didn’t need.
We have had times of joy and sorrow. We have smiled and laughed far more than we’ve cried. We have had 50 years of overall happiness. We’ve said goodbye to so many family members and good friends, some way too soon. Jean is blessed to still have all her siblings, but I only have one out of three still here. We’ve said goodbye to all our parents. We’ve buried some of the best dogs I’ve ever known in the back yard, as well as a few cats and one giant hermit crab named Herman.
We’ve had times of sickness and good health. We’ve survived terrible vehicle accidents. We’ve had more surgeries than they had on General Hospital. We’ve survived broken bones, replaced knees, damaged internal organs, colon surgery, torn retinas, cancer, open heart surgery, and the common things such as flu and Covid. We are like Timex…we ‘ve taken a licking and kept on ticking!”
Thank you, Jean Willis King, for 50 marvelous years! I look forward to 50 more! Okay, okay, I know, but at least many more!
***Written by Dr. Bill W. King for newspapers across Alabama

06/07/2025

Making Memories for a Lifetime
I have heard it said that real painters don’t need a drop cloth. One person who had told me that, later that same day knocked a gallon of paint off his ladder. He descended to the floor almost as quickly as the paint can had, while the spilled paint raced him across the church’s unprotected carpet!
Evidently, I am not a real painter, because I definitely need a drop cloth. Recently, I had finished painting and was preparing to fold up my large plastic drop cloth. Folding such a huge piece of material by yourself is not an easy task. I stretched my blue plastic covering across the ground, looked at the multitude of white paint droplets that dotted it, and contemplated how to best fold it up. There was no one out there other than me, but unexpectantly, I heard a voice giving me folding directions. No, it was not the voice of God. It was not an audible voice that I heard with my ears but the memory of an actual voice that I have not heard for almost 55 years now. It was the voice of my father. He died suddenly when I was a young teenaged boy. Since then, occasionally, I can still recall his voice giving me words of wisdom and instruction. My memory took me back to a time when he taught me how to fold a large canvas tarpaulin by myself. It was almost like he was there coaching me as I lifted one corner and walked it to the other corner on one side and then on the other. I repeated that process until I finally had a neatly folded square, ready to be put up. My father said, “Good job, son!”
All those many years ago, when my father taught me that trick, I never imagined how special that simple memory would be to me all these years later. Since I was still young when he died, I don’t have many memories of my father, but I am so thankful for the ones I do have. There have been numerous times when I’ve wished I could ask him something, but he wasn’t there to ask. The awesome thing is that there have also been quite a few times, like the tarp folding, when he told me what I needed (at least in my memory) without even being there. I’m thankful we made some memories.
I am indeed blessed to have now lived long enough to see my own child grow to adulthood. Through her childhood and adolescence, I tried to make as many memories with her as possible. I vowed to spend even more time with her than my dad had with me. She and I played, worked, fished, rode bikes, wrestled dogs, built things, and who knows what else we did together. It really didn’t matter what we did, I wouldn’t take a million dollars for the times we have shared. I prayed that I would live long enough to see her reach adulthood and God granted that. Now, I am making memoires with my grandson and praying the same prayer for him. My close encounter with clogged heart arteries a year ago caused me to realize even more just how precious this life with the ones we love is. Just this week, as Drew and I played pickleball together and then worked on a project in the woodshop, I gave thanks to God for such simple opportunities.
Dads and Moms, please take the time to make some memories that will last a lifetime. Our children will cherish them…especially after we are gone.
***Written by Dr. Bill W King for newspapers across Alabama.

05/31/2025

What’s Under Your Bed?
Jennifer Garner must have asked me a thousand times, “What’s in your wallet?” The answer is always the same, “Nothing, absolutely nothing!” I keep hoping maybe she has put some money in there without me knowing, but no, it’s still nothing. A more pertinent question might be, “What’s under your bed?” There’s stuff under there. There has always been stuff under there.
One little boy asked his mother if it was true that mankind really came from dust. When she answered, “Yes,” he then asked, “Is it true that when we die, we will turn back to dust.” Again, she answered in the affirmative and said, “Dust to dust.” She asked him why he was asking such questions. He replied, “Well, I was hiding under my bed when I discovered somebody else was under there, but I couldn’t tell if he was coming or going.”
When I was a boy, my older brother and sister told me all kinds of tall tales about monsters and creepy crawlers that were hiding under my bed. They told me those creatures would drag me under there and eat me alive…bones and all! My old iron frame bed set so high off the floor that a herd of elephants might have been hiding under there. I was so afraid to get near the edge that I jumped in bed from as far away as possible!
When I got a little older, I realized there actually wasn’t room under my bed for monsters. I became the monster under the bed as I grabbed my niece and nephews from under there by the ankles when they walked by. I’ve thought about trying that now with my wife, but there are a few problems with that. One is that I’m too big to squeeze under there, and even if I did, I’m probably too old and stiff to wiggle my way back out! The other problem is that there’s too much stored under there to store me under there…but if I did that, she might try!
We use our under-the-bed space for storage. It seems that many houses never have enough closets or storage space. The old house where I grew up did not have closets. I hung my clothes on 16-penny nails driven into the board door facings. Before you say, “You can’t hang many clothes on a nail,” I say, “Correct, but I didn’t have many.” Since there weren’t really any monsters under my bed, I began using that space for storage. I kept a large but not very tall box under there to house my extra model cars. I was an avid model builder, but I soon had too many to keep them all out on display. They were inexpensive back then. I put out a few at a time and kept the rest under the bed. Every few weeks, I rotated them and put out different ones.
One of the things I still keep under my bed is my shoes. That dates back to my closet-less childhood as well. Back then, I kept shoes there because I didn’t have anywhere else to keep them. Since I never owned more than two-or-three pairs at the same time, that wasn’t much of a problem. These days I probably have more shoes than I had in my entire life of back then. I keep my favorites that I wear the most under the bed and the rest in my closet. I probably need to rotate them like I did my models, but Jean says I definitely shouldn’t leave the others on display in the floor! What’s under your bed?
***Written by Dr. Bill W. King for newspapers across Alabama.

05/17/2025

Where Are You From?
Yes, I know. I learned that in Lila Mae Tommie’s 11th grade English class. I could have said, in my best King James English, “From whence does thou hail?” Nah!
Chances are I am not from where you live, but I may have been there. I may have even lived there at one time or another. Through the years, I have been blessed to see many wonderful and beautiful places and met many marvelous people. I have lived in four states in my lifetime. I grew up in Alabama and have spent most of my life here, but I have also lived in Georgia, Mississippi, and Louisiana. I have never lived in Tennessee, but I have lived so close I could see it! I love this nation of ours. I have set foot in every state in the union except three and later this year I will narrow that number to two. I have enjoyed visiting each one of those states, but I must admit I am partial to the South, and I do love my home state of Alabama.
Over the past 11 years, I have had the privilege of being in many of your homes. No, perhaps not in person, but at least through my writings. You may hear from me every week, and I hear from some of you almost as often. Since I have been doing this column, I have gotten mail, emails, and Facebook messages from all over the state, as well as from other states. I do enjoy your kind messages. Because my columns are carried by newspapers in various parts of the state, and is on Facebook each week, I am often asked where I live or where I grew up. That is a good question. Occasionally, I hear from readers who think I live in their town because their paper carries my column, but unless you live in the Opelika/Auburn area, that is not the case. For some of you, I have lived in your area in the past.
Where someone is from and where they live can be the same. Where I’m from and where I now live are the bookends of my life, at least at this point. I spent the first 20 years of my life in Rainsville, Alabama, and I have now spent almost that same amount of time living in Opelika, Alabama. I have lived in several places between those two. Those places include Birmingham; New Orleans; Fort Payne; Marietta, Georgia; Rainbow City; and Southaven, Mississippi. We also spent one summer, as well as weekends for a year, in Butler, Alabama, and weekends for a couple of years near Linden, in the neighboring community of Half Acre.
Although I have not lived in my hometown in almost 50 years now, it is a place and a people that is very near and dear to my heart. Many of the “First” in my life happened there. Much of who I am, and what I am, has its roots in my hometown. I did have the privilege of returning to my home county when we spent five-years in Fort Payne. That was practically the same as being back home. I am a bit envious of those who have had the joy of spending their lives where they grew up. There is a connectedness to that which may not be found anywhere else. The other side of that is that I have enjoyed getting to experience new places and meet new people.
Opelika has become a great home for us and likely will our last one on this earth, but one day, we live in a place that is out of this world! I hope to see the rest of this nation and a little more of this world, but I am excited about moving to my eternal home one day!
***Written by Dr. Bill W. King for newspapers across Alabama.
P.S. You are more than welcome to send a reply or email ([email protected]) telling me where you are from (or from whence you hail).

05/03/2025

A Fresh Coat of Paint Works Wonders
She said, “What do you not do? You write, you sing, you play instruments, and you even build instruments. Do you paint?” I grinned and said, “Oh, yes ma’am, I sure do paint.” Then she asked, “When did first begin painting?” I replied, “I can’t say for certain, but I think the first painting I ever did was when I was about nine-or-ten-years-old.” She was amazed and said, “That’s so young.” When she asked, “What mediums?” I must have looked a bit puzzled, so she said, “You know; acrylics, oils, watercolors, pastels?” I chuckled slightly and said, “Oh, my first painting was a watercolor.” I failed to tell her it was a paint-by-number kit. She still had not realized I was teasing. With a slightly puzzled look, she cocked her head to one side as she squinted and asked, “Do you paint mostly still life, landscapes, or portraits?” The gig was finally up when I said, “Well, actually, right now I’m in the middle of painting my back porch and deck, but I have painted my entire house!”
A young man was out of work and therefore out of money. He knocked on several doors and asked the owners if they needed anything painted. One man said, “Why yes, I’ll pay you $300 to go out back and paint my porch. There is a gallon of paint and a brush already back there.” A couple of hours later, he knocked on the door and said, “I’m all finished, but sir, that is not a Porsche. I believe that is a Ferrari!”
I have doubts about the reality of the last story, and I may have used a little writer’s license on parts of the first one. That being said, I really am a painter. That first paint-by-number painting was supposed to be a horse, but it looked more like a purple elephant when I finished. That’s about as close to any real artistic painting as I’ve ever come. I never painted a Porsche or a Ferrari, but I have painted a few Mustangs and Pintos. I did not use a brush to paint any of them. As a teenager, I worked for my oldest brother in his automobile paint-and-body shop. I learned to spray paint at the ripe old age of 14. I can say that I have painted with acrylics…acrylic enamel car paint, that is!
I have done my share of painting with a brush and roller, but never on a car. When I was a broke college student, I worked parttime at a nearby high school. We cleaned, did maintenance, and painted. Twice each year, we painted the entire interior of the school. We covered up all the graffiti in all the bathrooms, so the students would have a clean place to do their artwork! I’ve done odd paint jobs since then, and I’ve done all the painting on my own houses. I have just finished repainting my back porch (not to be confused with Porsche) and deck. If you ask me if I have a large porch and deck, I would have answered, “No, not really.” Now that I’ve finished painted it, I would answer, “I sure do!”
A fresh coat of paint on most things really does work wonders. It may not make something look brand new, but it can cover up a multitude of ugly. With all the years-and-miles I have on me now, not to mention a few health issues along the way, I wonder if a fresh coat of paint might help me some! Still, I am thankful for this old house I’m living in and thankful to still be living in it!
***Written by Dr. Bill W. King for newspapers across Alabama.

04/19/2025

A Biography with a Different Ending
I did not grow up in a family of readers. Oh, I don’t mean my family was illiterate. My parents could read; they simply didn’t do much of it. They read what they needed to read, but I can’t recall either of them sitting around reading a great deal. They occasionally read a newspaper or magazine but rarely ever a book and certainly not biographies. The main book my mother read was a book that contained 66 other books. Well, now that I think about it, the gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John are biographies, so Mom did read those four short biographies many times. Dad may have read those too, but not that I can remember.
Reading books was not discouraged by my parents, but it wasn’t strongly encouraged. Because of that fact, I was probably 12-years old before I ever read a book from cover to cover. The first book I remember reading in its entirety was a biography. It was the story of Bart Starr. One of the things about him that attracted me was that he had grown up in my native Alabama. He played football at the University of Alabama, but I was too young to remember that. I have read that due to injuries and perhaps others reasons, he didn’t get a great deal of playing time. He did, however, manage to get drafted by an NFL team, but not until the 17th round. No doubt, many fans didn’t think he would make it as a professional player. He not only made it, but he managed to play for 16 seasons…for the same team. He led the Green Bay Packers to five NFL championships and won the first two Super Bowls ever played. He was named MVP for both Super Bowls. Not bad for a kid from Alabama who was the 200th player picked in that year’s draft.
Reading Bart Starr’s biography began a lifetime of reading books for me. I have read all kinds of books, and even written a few, but my favorites are biographies. I have read about some of the greatest people who ever lived. I’ve read the stories of great athletes, soldiers, musicians, and entertainers. I read about many of our nation’s founding fathers, including a number of our presidents, then and since. I have read numerous stories of great Chirstian men and women, including people like Charles Spurgeon, D.L. Moody, Jonathan Edwards, Billy Graham, William Carey, and Lottie Moon.
I have read one biography that is different from all the others, because it was about one person who was different from anyone who has ever lived. Many have accomplished marvelous things, but Jesus did miraculous things. What he did not only touched the lives of others, he changed lives…and still does. In fact, he gives life…eternal life.
This week, we Christians celebrate his life. Strange as it may sound, Friday of this week, we celebrated his death. Normally, we don’t celebrate when someone dies, especially if it is someone we love, but his death was different. We even call that day “Good Friday.” One might expect that day to be called “Bad Friday,” but because of what happened three-days later, we call it “Good.” On that basis, the day we call Easter should be called “Great” Sunday! The death of Jesus’ life wasn’t unique in that he died, but why he died, and especially in that he did not stay dead. The story in many biographies ends with death. On the cross, Jesus said, “It is finished,” but that didn’t mean his life was finished but that his mission was complete. Sunday, we will celebrate his resurrection. We celebrate his death and life, and we celebrate the life he gives us. Happy Easter, my friends! He is Risen!

***Written by Dr. Bill W. King for newspapers across Alabama.

04/05/2025

March Madness Wasn’t Just Basketball
Sports fans, especially college-basketball fans, can tell you that March Madness is the nickname of the NCAA Championship Tournament. Basketball, however, is not the only madness that happens in March, and strangely enough, it isn’t always contained in March. This year’s tournament, along with two-remaining SEC teams, will carry over into April. Let’s pray that another March madness does not carry over.
A couple of weeks ago, Jean and I witnessed the results of the other madness. On our trip to Northeast Alabama, we passed through the small hamlet of Winterboro, Alabama. A few days prior, an unwelcomed visitor, an EF-2 tornado, passed through there and left quite a mess in its wake. I was deeply saddened when I saw the destruction. Later, I learned that one local gentleman lost his life in that storm.
I was a child when I first heard of this community. My cousin-in-law, Ronald Howard, lived near there and attended school there. In case you don’t know what a cousin-in-law is, I’m not completely sure there is such, but I don’t know what else to call him. He was my oldest brother’s wife’s nephew. He and I were not actually cousins, but we were the best of buds. I had known him since I was three and he was four. I visited his Winterboro home several times. He must have lived at least 3000 miles from my hometown of Rainsville, or so it seemed. My friend moved on to heaven long before I made several return visits to Winterboro. A few years ago, I began singing and playing music with a wonderful group of songwriters from that general area. We had meetings to hone our craft, but we also took any opportunities given to perform. We used to joke that every restaurant where we performed soon closed its doors! I don’t think the restaurant owners found that as funny as we did. Actually, I don’t think the music of our songwriters was to be blamed!
One of the places where we performed numerous times was the Aljerald Powers Memorial Lodge, or Plank Road Station, in Winterboro. The old wooden building was built as a Masonic Lodge around 1920. It served as such until 1958. The historic building sat empty for a number of years. In 2002, the Alabama Historical Commission asked the Winterboro Education Foundation about saving and restoring the building. They relocated it to its current location, which is next door to the old High School. It has served as host to all kinds of events since its rebirth. I have fond memories of performing there at arts-and-crafts fairs, chili dinners, and who knows what else. There was something special about simply being in the old lodge building.
I was saddened to see the damage the March storm caused. The school suffered severe damage, especially the gymnasium. Fortunately, the church next door was not damaged. The twister mowed a wide path through the nearby woods. I did not stop for a close-up look, but it looked like the lodge may have been dealt its final blow, but I sure hope not. The roof looked severely damaged, so everything inside, included newly installed floors, was flooded with rain. I was told later that the old relic had been shifted from its foundation.
The community was blessed that more lives were not lost. Our prayers are certainly with those who did lose a loved one, as well as those who lost their home or suffered serious damage. It is now April, but more March madness has been predicted. Enjoy the remaining games and please stay safe!
***Written by Dr. Bill W. King for newspapers across Alabama.

03/29/2025

We Took a Trip Back in Time
Jean and I just spent three days on a magnificent mountain that has, or is near, beautiful bluffs, gorgeous gorges, carved canyons, cavernous caves, wonderful waterfalls, wide waters, babbling brooks, crooked creeks, and at least one rambling river that runs on top of a mountain. All of this is at the southern end of the Appalachians. Oh, and the area had enough antique stores to keep us busy when we weren’t enjoying all that natural beauty that God spent so much time creating. Much of this is alongside the Tennessee River, but we never left Alabama. All of these things can be found in Northeast Alabama, primarily in DeKalb and Jackson Counties.
We took a long trip last week, but actually, we only traveled a short distance. We only drove about three-and-a-half-hours from our Opelika home, but we traveled about 80-years backwards upon arrival. I have never actually believed in the phenomenon of time travel, but our amazing destination took us back in time. Our mode of transportation was not a time machine but a house. When we entered the front door of the Bed-and-Breakfast farmhouse at Songbird Story Farm, located on top of Sand Mountain, near the towns of Pisgah and Rosalie, we suddenly found ourselves in the middle of the 1940s. The house was originally built by Buck and Ima McCormick, back in 1944, on their 40-acre farm. Their World War II era house originally consisted of only four rooms. Since that humble beginning, more rooms, including an indoor bathroom, have been added. Outback is a beautiful open-air pavilion with period pieces, plus a wooden tower that overlooks the garden, cattle, and donkeys.
Greg and Lesa Millican, owners of this modern-day B&B, have kept the inside décor of his grandparents’ home much like its original 1940s, but with modern conveniences. The base of the bathroom sink is an antique Singer sewing machine iron bottom. There is even an oxymoronic microwave that looks like something from that long-gone era, but is actually a modern microwave oven.
Our hosts provided some of my favorite goodies from my childhood. There was a basket filled with RC Colas and Moon Pies, Grapico, Fanta Orange, and Cracker Jacks. Each morning, we listened to the songbirds’ chirping outside our window, while we drank coffee and enjoyed a muffin (or Moon Pie!).
We spent a good portion of one of our days in nearby Scottsboro. After a wonderful BBQ lunch as we looked out over the backed-up Tennessee River at Jackson County Park, we traveled back in time again that afternoon. We visited the old Payne Drug Store, which was established in 1869. It is now Payne’s Sandwich Shop and Soda Fountain. A life-size replica of Betty Boop, standing on the black-and-white checkered-tile floor, greeted us at the door. We could have bellied up to the red-and-white bar for a hot dog and root bear but chose a table instead. Did I mention they have ice cream? I’m not telling how many scoops I ate? One the way back, we stopped to gaze off Gorham’s Bluff, overlooking the Tennessee River from the brow of Sand Mountain.
With Fort Payne in the valley below, Mentone on neighboring Lookout Mountain, and Scottsboro in the other valley, and all of them 30-minutes or less from us, we had our pick of places to visit. Next time we will plan a longer stay.
If you have never visited this part of our great state, you have missed beautiful treasures just waiting for you to discover them. If this all sounds like the kind of places you would like to visit and explore, I certainly understand. I might even see you there!
***Written by Dr. Bill W. King for newspapers across Alabama.

03/15/2025

I Just Can’t Seem to Remember
I think I may have surely come to that stage and age in life where I can’t…I can’t…well, now I can’t remember what I was going to say. Oh, that was it, that stage where I just can’t seem to remember things. I’ve come to that time in life where I’m standing beside a bathtub filled with water and wondering to myself if I was about to get in the bathtub, or did I just get out. When I ask Jean, she says, “Well, feel of your hair. If it is wet, then you just got out of the bathtub.” So, I take her advice and sure enough my hair is wet. Then I ask, “Did I just come inside out of the rain, or did I just get out of the shower?” She says, “Silly man, it’s not even raining outside.” With my small amount of thinning hair, by the time all of that has transpired it has already dried, and I’m right back where I started. Once again, I'm wondering did I…well, you know.
Late at night, do you ever have those times when a craving for something sweet grabs you like an octopus? I’m talking about the kind of craving that causes you to get up and get dressed again, after you’ve already slipped into your favorite sweatpants and T-shirt, then head to the store when you should be headed to bed. Without even making eye contact with your beloved, you ask, “You want some ice cream?” When she answers, “Sure.” You ask, “Do you want to ride with me?” She says, “No, but get vanilla, and get some chocolate syrup to go on top of it, because you know I really don’t like vanilla. And, get some kind of nuts, maybe some walnuts and pecans, no, wait, how about some peanuts…chocolate covered peanuts. Maybe some sprinkles would be good too, and a can of that squirt-on whipped cream. Get a jar of those sweet, candied cherries too, for the top. You could get some ice-cream cones, but I don’t think all that will fit in a cone, so never mind.”
Then she asks, “Did you write all that down, so you won’t forget any of it?” You slightly snort and chuckle as you say, “I won’t forget anything on that list. Didn’t you hear ole LeRoy tell me yesterday that I still have a mind like a steel trap?” She chuckles as she says, “I believe what LeRoy meant was once you get something shut up inside that trap, you can’t ever remember how to get it back out!”
After you return from the store, she looks inside your one little sack. There is nothing inside it but one giant-size jar of crunchy peanut butter. She sighs and says, “You beat everything. I told you that you should write it all down. All you bought was peanut butter! You know that we don’t have a cracker in this house to put it on, or one single slice of bread! Besides that, you should know I don’t like crunchy, I prefer smooth!
Forgetfulness is part of aging, and we joke about it, but serious memory issues are no joking matter. An estimated 10% of people over 70 have some form of dementia. Over 6 million Americans are suffering with Alzheimer’s disease. As Baby Boomers grow older, those numbers are expected to rise. If you, or someone you love, are suffering from either of these problems, my prayers are with you. Those are not easy roads to travel. By all means, please don’t try to travel them alone.
***Written by Dr. Bill W. King for newspapers across Alabama.

Brother Billy Bob Bohannon

04/14/2026

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