One of the major musical stars of the 1960s and 1970s was Bobby Sherman. When I think back on it, I can hardly think of a single friend who didn’t at some point develop feelings for him.
Sherman sold millions of records, performed in front of thousands of people, put out several albums, and gained recognition as an actor. But eventually, at the height of his popularity, he made the decision to permanently leave the entertainment industry.
This, however, wasn’t because the 79-year-old thought his abilities had declined in any kind. No, he was fighting for something far more important: the preservation of life.
Everything you need to know about the renowned artist Bobby Sherman is provided here!
Bobby Sherman was raised in Van Nuys, a community next to Los Angeles, after being born in Santa Monica, California, on July 22, 1943.
Bobby Sherman’s childhood
He was reported to have mastered the trumpet by the age of 11, and subsequently the piano, trombone, piano, and of course, the guitar. Sherman went to Birmingham High School. He joined a band there and had a keen interest in singing. He apparently picked up the incredible skill of playing sixteen instruments throughout the years.
Following his high school graduation in 1961, Sherman enrolled in Woodland Hill, California’s Pierce College. A romance there would permanently alter the path of his life.
Sherman met his first lover while pursuing his studies in child psychology at Pierce College. She made the decision to bring him along to the cast party of The Greatest Story Ever Told one evening.
That was when Sherman had began to play music. Many folks in the San Fernando Valley knew he had a good voice because he sang with several bands there. Sherman so seized the chance to showcase his skills when he got to the party.
He subsequently recalled it, saying, “I was always the guy who had the guts to get up and sing in front of people.”
It probably helped a little bit because Bobby had party pals who were on stage with the band. Either way, he stood up in front of the group and sang What I’d Say by Ray Charles.
found during a party in Hollywood
As it was a Hollywood party, a number of entertainment celebrities were present. Sal Mineo, Natalie Wood, and Jane Fonda were a few of them.
They saw his talent after the show, and Mineo made the decision to mentor him.
“It was said by others, ‘Who’s handling you?’” Sherman remarked, “I had no idea what that meant.”
“Well, you know, I was a Van Nuys kid, and I was like, ‘What do they mean, handling me?’” I understood then that they intended representation.
He quickly became acquainted with Hollywood. Bobby Sherman was sent to an audition just three days later by an agent who had been tipped off by a partygoer. Bobby was cast as a featured character in Shindig, a new television series.
Even though Bobby was only in that capacity for two years, it was all he needed to leave his impact. At that point, he had become the national darling, and jobs were popping up out of every nook and cranny.
Sherman had guest appearances on a number of television programs after Shindig was canceled in 1966, including The FBI, Honey West, and The Monkees. Even though he had begun to gain attention in Hollywood, his major break came in 1968.
Bobby Sherman: acting, albums, songs, and music
Sherman spent two full years as the stuttering Jason Bolt in the television series Here Comes the Bridges. At the end of his run, his character stopped having stutters, and the show was eventually canceled.
Sherman discovered how well-liked Jason Bolt was by the public when he made an appearance at a Buffalo telethon. Suddenly, he was more than simply a rising star. Instead, he was now a celebrity.
Sherman told Tulsa World, “The show had just gone on the air, and we didn’t even have any records out yet.”
“Robert Brown, myself, and Greg Morris from Mission: Impossible from Here Come The Brides were requested to participate in the telethon, and things were going great until the fire marshal entered the room and announced, “We have a problem.” You must greet some individuals, so you’d better make your way to the second floor.
“They unlocked this window, and I peered outside, and the exit of this TV station was a sea of faces,” he continued. It was simply amazing. And that’s when I realized something was going on.
For Bobby, the ensuing year was “kind of limbo.” But that’s when he started getting interested in songwriting and experimented with his eight-track recording apparatus.
Bobby went on to become a professional singer, even if his voice wasn’t completely recognized at the time.
Bobby Sherman’s spouse, kids, and family
Sherman’s youthful fan base purchased millions of records between 1969 and 1971, during which time he released hits including Julie, Do Ya Love Me, Easy Come, Easy Go, and Little Woman.
One million copies of four distinct recorded albums and one million copies of six different single recordings were sold by him.
In 1971, he stated, “A song begins with an idea – one line.”I develop that into a full lyric. I then arranged the music to fit it.
Sherman starred in a number of guest roles after his 1970 and 1971 stint on the television show Getting Together, which was a spinoff of The Partridge Family and followed the lives of two songwriters.
Sherman initially married Patti Carnel in 1971, which also happened to coincide with his ascent to stardom. Christopher and Tyler, the couple’s two boys, were born.
Sherman made the decision to construct a scale replica of Disneyland’s Main Street in his garden because he wanted his children to grow up in an amazing environment. It took him almost two and a half years to finish the project, and it apparently cost him about fifteen thousand dollars to create.
The initiative wasn’t well received by everyone; his wife reportedly found the incessant hammering to be bothersome.
“I had no idea what home was,” Sherman said in a People interview. “She even threatened to kill me if I didn’t finish it.”
Bobby’s children served as the model for his new career in addition to inspiring him to construct his own portion of Disneyland.
Bobby rose to prominence on television before celebrities like Shaun Cassidy and even David Cassidy. Eventually, people like Donny Osmond “replaced” him.
But at the height of his popularity, millions of people loved Sherman, who was starring in popular TV shows and putting out hit tunes at the same time. Tiger Beat and Sixteen turned into two of his favorite records.
Sherman clarified that despite living the life of luxury that very few people get to experience, he would typically film five days a week and even have nighttime programs on the weekends. It’s safe to say that the hectic schedule had its effects.
“I didn’t know what home was for three years because it was so hectic,” he said to the Washington Post.
“I had no idea where I was, and I was lost.” I needed constant reminders. To be really honest, though, I had the best experience ever because of the fantastic concerts and amazing fans. Even though it was the classic love-in, I felt like I was totally taken advantage of.
Bobby Sherman gave up music to save people’s lives.
Then, in the middle of his enormous notoriety, Bobby made the abrupt decision to change careers to something completely different but equally significant.
In the end, he made the decision to turn around and give up his career in music and television in an effort to save lives.
Sherman’s former wife Patti was terrified of blood, and he was deeply involved in his children’s upbringing. Accidents happen frequently, as anyone who has reared children will attest, and Christopher and Tyler frequently fell and hurt themselves.
These falls occasionally resulted in minor cuts and scrapes as well as bleeding knees. Sherman made the decision to enroll in certain classes in order to better manage these kinds of circumstances. After taking an introductory course on first aid and CPR, he moved on to volunteer as an emergency medical technician.
“I rescued the life of a small 5-year-old girl on the very first call. Indeed, that is the most amazing feeling, I thought to myself. In an interview from 1994, Bobby recounted.
Sherman completed more training and went on to work for the Los Angeles Police Department as a first aid instructor for officers.
Emergency medical technician Bobby Sherman
Bobby was sworn in as a police officer in 1992 and appointed chief medical training officer for the Los Angeles Police Department. In the field, he gave birth to five children, and in 1994, he bravely faced hardship.
Sherman was awakened by an earthquake at his Encino, California, home on January 17, 1994. Rather than taking cover, he made the decision to hop in his truck and drive directly to the epicenter.
While some needed first aid, others there needed advise. Either way, Bobby’s expertise and presence were required.
Even though Bobby’s profession choice put him in danger and exposed him to many challenging circumstances, at his core he was still an entertainer and had many of the endearing traits from his days in the business. In fact, he ran across a few of his former admirers on the field.
He used to tell a tale about how, as a teen idol, his celebrity followed him around when he went on fire department paramedic rescue calls.
signed letters to patients
Bobby told The Times, “We were working on a bleeding woman who had passed out on one call in Northridge.”
Her spouse was staring at me nonstop. He exclaimed, “Look, honey, it’s Bobby Sherman!” at the end. The woman started as she came to. “Oh great, I must look like a mess,” she exclaimed. She appeared fine, so I reassured her not to worry.
Bobby kept using his improvised studio to record music for movies and TV series over the years. In 1997, he made his final appearance on television when he starred in an episode of Fraiser.
He participated in the “Teen Idol Tour” in the late 1990s with Peter Noone, Davy Jones, and Micky Dolenz from the Monkees. But he then made the decision to officially leave the entertainment industry.
Sherman thanked his supporters for everything and said it was difficult to maintain the success.
“My life’s work and accomplishments can be attributed to the blessings bestowed upon me by my fans.” The celebrity told Tulsa World, “It’s stayed with me, so I can have the opportunity to do things that I really love doing.”
Bobby Sherman’s current net worth is as follows.
Sherman said, “I don’t think there’s anything I would change, other than maybe being a little bit more aware of [the success], because I probably could’ve enjoyed the fun of it a little more.” It required a lot of labor. There were many tears, sweats, and bloodsheds. But the best of times was had by all.
In 2011, Bobby Sherman married Brigette, his second wife, and the two of them are still together today. They established The Brigitte and Bobby Sherman Children’s Foundation, a youth facility in Ghana devoted to fusing education and music, the same year they got married.
Bobby is 79 years old today. Still, I think you’ll all agree that he looks a much like himself because he still has a lot of his signature style!
Bobby Sherman was a fantastic actor and performer, and those wonderful years will always be missed!
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My Neighbor Ruined My Christmas Yard With a Mud Path — Karma Took Its Revenge
My neighbor Sharon is the type of person who competes over everything, even Christmas lights. When her petty jealousy turned my festive yard into a muddy mess, she thought she’d won. But karma struck her with a surprising twist and gave her the spotlight she deserved.
You ever have that one neighbor who seems to thrive on being a pain in the rear? For me, that’s Sharon. I’m Evelyn — 35, mom to two mischievous cats, and a lover of low-key Christmas cheer. I live in a quiet neighborhood, the kind where most people wave when they pass by.
But Sharon? She doesn’t just wave. She sizes up your yard, your decorations, and probably your soul, thinking of ways to OUTDO you.
A woman decorating a Christmas tree | Source: Unsplash
Last year, the Homeowners’ Association (HOA) hosted a “Best Christmas Yard” contest. Honestly, I wasn’t even planning to enter, but Sharon made it impossible to ignore.
“Hey, Evelyn!” she called out one November morning, leaning over our shared fence. Her nails were perfectly manicured — bright red, as if she’d already decided she was Mrs. Claus. “Are you decorating this year? For the contest?”
“What contest?” I asked, genuinely clueless.
Her smirk widened. “Oh, the HOA is hosting this fun little competition. Best yard gets a plaque or something. I figured you’d want to know. Not that I need the competition.”
An arrogant woman standing behind a fence | Source: Midjourney
I rolled my eyes. “Wow, Sharon. Humble as always.”
“Humble?” she scoffed. “I prefer the term ‘professionally festive.’ Someone has to set the neighborhood standard.”
She laughed like she’d already won. I just shrugged.
“Thanks for the heads-up. I almost forgot about that,” I said.
Sharon went all in. Two days later, her yard looked like Christmas had exploded. Inflatable Santa? Check. Reindeer? Check. Thousands of twinkling lights synced to “Jingle Bell Rock”? Double-check. She even roped off sections for photo ops, charging five bucks per picture.
A yard flaunting stunning Christmas decor | Source: Midjourney
“Five-dollar Christmas memories!” Sharon announced to anyone within earshot. “Limited time offer!”
Me? I threw up a few string lights, hung an old wreath I dug out from the attic, and set out some candy canes. It wasn’t much, but the neighborhood kids loved it. They’d walk by, munching cookies or tugging on their parents’ sleeves, pointing at my yard like it was Santa’s little hideout.
That was all I needed.
The HOA announced the winner at the annual block party. I wasn’t even paying attention until I heard my name.
“And the Best Christmas Yard goes to… EVELYN!”
I blinked in disbelief. My yard? Seriously?
A stunned woman | Source: Midjourney
I went up to accept the certificate, feeling more awkward than proud. From the corner of my eye, I saw Sharon standing stiff as a nutcracker. Her lips were pursed so tight I thought they’d disappear.
“Congratulations,” she said when I passed her on my way back to my seat. Her tone? Sweet as vinegar, with an undertone that could curdle eggnog.
“Oh my,” she continued, her smile so forced it looked like it was held together with Christmas ornament wire, “I’m just THRILLED for you. Who would’ve thought… a few candy canes and some string lights could beat my PROFESSIONAL display?”
“Thanks, Sharon,” I replied, keeping my voice light.
She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I’m sure it was just a clerical error. These things happen.”
An annoyed woman | Source: Midjourney
The rest of the evening, she avoided me, but I caught her glaring a few times. Her fake smile was so rigid I was half-expecting it to crack like an icicle.
Honestly, I thought that’d be the end of it… just some harmless competition. I should’ve known better. Especially with Sharon.
Christmas morning, I packed up the car and headed to my mom’s. She wasn’t doing great health-wise, so I wanted to spend the holiday with her. When I came back two days later, my jaw hit the floor.
There was a muddy path leading from the sidewalk straight to my front door. My yard — my clean, festive yard — was a disaster zone. Mud covered everything. And right next to it, in giant letters, was the message:
“BEST YARD.”
A yard with a muddy track | Source: Midjourney
I stared at it, rage bubbling up inside me. Who else could’ve done this? It was classic Sharon — over-the-top, childish, and just plain mean.
“I should go confront her,” I muttered, then quickly backtracked. “No, no. Confronting Sharon is like voluntarily walking into the Grinch’s cave. With a welcome mat. And maybe a fruit basket.”
I grabbed a shovel and trash bags, my internal monologue running wild. “Confrontation? Pfft. She’d probably have surveillance cameras. Or worse… witnesses prepared with sworn testimonies about my ‘aggressive yard behavior’.”
A woman holding a shovel on a muddy track | Source: Midjourney
Muttering under my breath, I started scooping the sloppy mud. “Petty, immature… How does she even have time for this? Miss ‘I sync my Christmas lights to Broadway musical numbers’.”
I paused, my shovel mid-scoop. “If I go over there, she’ll play the victim. She’ll have tea. Probably Christmas-themed. With little gingerbread man coasters.”
Another scoop of mud. “Nope. Not worth it. She’d turn this into a three-act Christmas drama where I’m the villain.”
As I continued scooping, my frustration grew. “Best yard, huh? More like best mud sculpture. Congratulations, Sharon. You’ve truly OUTDONE yourself this time.”
A frustrated woman with her face covered in mud | Source: Midjourney
I grabbed another trash bag, still grumbling. And as I started scooping up more mud, karma decided to make a surprise appearance.
“Evelyn! WAIT!”
I looked up to see Sharon sprinting toward me, her face pale as snow.
“What do you want?” I asked, holding my shovel mid-air. “Come to offer more landscaping advice?”
“Please don’t throw the mud away!” she begged, her voice shrill and desperate. She looked like a deer caught in headlights — if that deer was wearing designer winter boots and had a manicure.
An anxious woman screaming | Source: Midjourney
I blinked. “Why would I keep mud? You think I’m building a mud castle here? Planning some avant-garde Christmas sculpture?”
She hesitated, wringing her hands. “I, uh… I lost something. My engagement ring. I think it might’ve fallen off when I was… uh…”
“When you were writing ‘BEST YARD’ in my lawn?” I finished for her, raising an eyebrow. “How convenient.”
Her face turned beet red. “Look, just… don’t throw it out, okay? I’ll clean it up myself!”
I crossed my arms, smirking. The power dynamics had suddenly shifted, and I was living for every second. “Oh no, Sharon. You wanted to make a mess? Fine. But I’m finishing the cleanup. If your ring’s in here, you’re welcome to dig for it. In the dumpster!”
A furious woman frowning | Source: Midjourney
Her eyes widened in pure horror. “Evelyn, please —”
“Better get started,” I interrupted, tossing another shovelful of mud into the trash bag. “I hear mud is great for exfoliation. Consider this your Christmas spa treatment.”
Sharon looked trapped, like a perfectly coiffed rat in a very expensive mousetrap.
An hour later after I was done, she ended up elbow-deep in garbage, sifting through mud in her designer boots.
“You find it yet?” I called, standing on the porch with a cup of coffee, enjoying the show like it was my personal holiday parade.
“Not. Helping,” she snapped, wiping mud from her face. Her perfectly highlighted hair now looked like a mud sculpture gone wrong.
A woman sifting through a garbage bag | Source: Midjourney
Neighbors started coming out of their houses, pretending to “take a walk” or “check the mail.” Soon, half the block was watching Sharon dig through trash bags like a raccoon… a very well-dressed, increasingly frustrated raccoon.
One guy across the street whispered to his wife, “Did you see her boots? That’s gotta be at least $400 ruined right there.”
“I’d be more worried about the coat,” his wife replied, stifling a laugh. “Those designer labels don’t exactly scream ‘mud-friendly’.”
Sharon overheard and shot them a look that could freeze Santa’s sleigh mid-flight.
An annoyed woman frowning | Source: Midjourney
An hour later, she let out a triumphant shriek that could’ve shattered glass. She held up the ring like she’d won an Olympic medal for Most Dramatic Mud Excavation.
“Found it!” she yelled.
I clapped slowly, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “Congrats. Now about the rest of the mud…”
She shot me a death glare so intense it could’ve melted the North Pole. She shoved the ring into her pocket, and stomped back to her house. The sound of her squelching boots was music to my ears.
Close-up shot of a woman holding a diamond ring | Source: Midjourney
The next morning, I stepped outside with a cup of coffee, expecting to see Sharon’s inflatable Santa waving cheerfully like always. But her yard was… EMPTY. No twinkling lights, no music, not even a stray candy cane. Just an eerie, stripped-down lawn that looked like it was bracing itself for a mid-January thaw.
“Whoa,” muttered Greg, my neighbor from two doors down, as he shuffled past with his dog. “Sharon finally gave up?”
“Looks like it,” I said, pretending to study my shrubs while biting back a grin.
The neighborhood buzzed about it all day. Apparently, Sharon had packed everything up at the crack of dawn. Rumor was, she’d been too mortified to face anyone after her mud-wrestling performance in my yard. One neighbor swore she heard Sharon muttering something about how “the spotlight wasn’t worth it.”
An empty yard on a snowy day | Source: Midjourney
“More like the mud-light wasn’t worth it,” I mumbled to myself.
By afternoon, people were strolling by my yard to compliment my decorations again. “So simple, so sweet,” Mrs. Hargrove cooed. “You really deserved that win.”
“Effortless Christmas charm,” I replied with a wink. “Sometimes less is more.”
I just smiled and thanked them, my heart doing a little victory dance. Not because I’d won, but because I knew Sharon was probably inside her house, peeking through the blinds, stewing in her own embarrassment.
A cheerful woman smiling | Source: Midjourney
That night, as I watered my poinsettias, Sharon stepped out to check her mailbox. She glanced my way, and for a second, I thought she might wave or say something civil.
Instead, she turned on her heel and marched back inside, slamming the door behind her so hard I thought the Christmas wreaths might shake.
I chuckled, shaking my head. “Maybe next year, Sharon. Maybe next year!”
A furious woman standing at the doorway | Source: Midjourney
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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