Pat Boone was a huge star in the 1950s and 60s, loved by fans everywhere.
In his long career, he did many things like writing songs, acting, writing books, and speaking to inspire people. He’s even written a book about faith called “If.”
Pat got married to Shirley Lee Foley when he was only 19. Shirley was the daughter of Red Foley, a famous country music singer.
One year after starting his music career, Pat Boone became famous with his hit song “Ain’t That a Shame,” which was originally by Fats Domino. In 1956, he had a song that reached number one on the charts, and only Elvis Presley was more popular at the time.
When he was just 23, he had his own TV show called The Pat Boone Chevy Showroom. It was on ABC and aired every week for 115 episodes until 1960.
“I was the youngest person ever to have my own music show on a big TV network, at 22 years old,” Boone said in an interview with Closer magazine.
Pat Boone’s career kept getting better and better. He became one of the most famous singers in America and also acted in movies like Journey to the Center of the Earth, State Fair, and The Greatest Story Ever Told, among others.
All the while, his wife Shirley was there, supporting him. She took care of their four daughters and also worked as an actress and assistant director.
They were married for 65 years until Shirley passed away at 84. She died because of complications from vasculitis, which is a group of disorders that damage blood vessels.
“Being married to one person for 65 years isn’t common in this wild industry,” Pat Boone shared with The Christian Post. “My wife Shirley passed away last year, and now I’m alone.”
Pat Boone still lives in the house they shared for many years and doesn’t plan to move. But he says he feels the sadness of losing his wife.
“I live here alone with a housekeeper and my dog, a little cocker spaniel named Shadow,” Pat Boone shared with Closer Weekly. “It’s just me and Shadow, feeling a bit lonely. But I’m okay. I miss Shirley.”
After his wife Shirley passed away, Pat told People magazine, “We had a wonderful life together for 65 years. She’s moved on to another place, but we’ll be together again one day.”
The love and devotion that these two shared is both beautiful and inspirational. Rest in peace Shirley.
Please share with all the Pat Boone fans you know.
I Felt Disappointed That My Grandfather Left Me Just an Old Apiary, but My Perspective Changed When I Inspected the Beehives
My late grandfather, a master storyteller who spun tales of buried treasure, left me a rather unexpected inheritance: a dusty old apiary. It felt like a cruel joke at first. Who would leave their grandchild a shack swarming with bees? My resentment lingered until the day I finally ventured into the beehives.
One typical morning, Aunt Daphne urged me to pack my bag for school, but I was too busy texting a friend about the upcoming dance and my crush, Scott. When she mentioned my grandfather’s dreams for me, my frustration grew. I had no interest in tending to his bees; I just wanted to enjoy my teenage life.
The next day, Aunt Daphne chastised me for my neglect, threatening to ground me. She insisted that caring for the apiary was part of my responsibility. Despite my protests, I reluctantly agreed to check on the hives. Donning protective gear, I opened the first hive, my heart racing. A bee stung my glove, and for a moment, I considered quitting. But a rush of determination took over, and I pressed on, hoping to show Aunt Daphne I could handle this.
While harvesting honey, I discovered a weathered plastic bag containing a faded map. Excited, I tucked it into my pocket and raced home to grab my bike. Following the map, I pedaled into the woods, recalling my grandfather’s stories that had once enchanted me.
I found myself in a clearing resembling a scene from one of his tales—the old gamekeeper’s house stood before me, decaying but still captivating. Memories flooded back of lazy afternoons spent there, listening to his stories. Touching the gnarled tree nearby, I recalled his playful warnings about the gnomes that supposedly lurked in the woods.
Inside the forgotten cabin, I uncovered a beautifully carved metal box. Inside was a note from Grandpa: “To my dear Robyn, this box contains a treasure for you, but do not open it until your journey’s true end” Though tempted, I knew I had to honor his wishes.
After exploring further, I realized I was lost and panic set in. Remembering Grandpa’s advice to stay calm, I pressed on, searching for a familiar path. Eventually, I stumbled upon the bridge he often spoke of, but it felt further away than I had hoped. Exhausted and disoriented, I collapsed beneath a tree, longing for home.
The next morning, determined to find my way, I recalled Grandpa’s lessons as I navigated through the wilderness. I found a river but was startled when I slipped into the icy water. Fighting against the current, I finally managed to cling to a log, eventually dragging myself to shore.
Soaked and trembling, I rummaged through my backpack, only to find stale crumbs. When I remembered Grandpa’s wisdom, I used healing leaves for my cuts and continued onward, drawn by the sound of rushing water. I finally reached the river again, but the water was treacherous. Desperate, I knelt to drink, but the current swept me away, and I found myself struggling against the powerful flow.
Determined not to give up, I let go of my backpack but clung to the metal box. With sheer will, I fought my way to the bank, finally escaping the icy grasp of the river. I needed shelter, so I built a makeshift one from branches under a sturdy oak tree.
The next morning, I set out once more, the metal box feeling like my only lifeline. Memories of fishing trips with Grandpa warmed me, urging me forward. When I finally spotted the bridge, hope surged within me. But the forest began to close in around me, confusion and despair threatening to overwhelm me. Just when I thought I couldn’t go on, I found a clearing and collapsed, utterly spent.
Then, I heard voices calling my name. I awoke in a hospital bed with Aunt Daphne by my side. Overcome with regret, I apologized for everything. She comforted me, reminding me of Grandpa’s unconditional love and how he always believed in me.
As she reached into her bag, my heart raced when I recognized the familiar blue wrapping paper. It was an Xbox, a gift from Grandpa, meant to be given only when I understood the value of hard work. I realized then that I had learned that lesson, and the desire for the gift faded.
In the following years, I grew into my responsibilities, embracing the lessons my grandfather imparted. Now, as a mother myself, I reflect on those moments with gratitude. The sweet honey from my bees serves as a cherished reminder of the bond I shared with Grandpa, a bond that continues to guide me.
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