From Horseplay to Heroes: Finding your Clarence

By Greg Peters
Posted 1/29/25

On Christmas Eve, like many families, our family goes to church and then we drive around town and look at Christmas lights. Unlike most other families, we rank the homes having the best Christmas …

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From Horseplay to Heroes: Finding your Clarence

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On Christmas Eve, like many families, our family goes to church and then we drive around town and look at Christmas lights. Unlike most other families, we rank the homes having the best Christmas lights, first, second, and third. A house to the west of Westside Elementary in River Falls, near the corner of Bobwhite Street and Rolling Hills Lane was our unofficial winner this year. As soon as we arrive back at our home, we watch "It's A Wonderful Life;" the 1946 movie starring Jimmy Stewart as George Bailey.

George Bailey, in the mythical town of Bedford Falls, is like a lot of us. That's the staying power almost 80 years later. Young George Bailey is filled with hopes and dreams. He wants to see the world and build skyscrapers 100 stories tall. Life and God, however, have a different plan for George. He's stuck at the ole' building and loan office and lives in a drafty old house. The story's main antagonist is George Bailey being perpetually unhappy about what he doesn't have instead of being happy about what he does have. Our hero reaches a breaking point after Uncle Billy misplaces the business's $8,000 before he's able to make the bank deposit. Now, $8,000 in 1946 is close to $130,000 today adjusting for inflation. I'm not too confident Uncle Billy is my go-to employee to be carrying $130,000 in cash, but in story-telling, it's known as the "idiot plot." Uncle Billy inadvertently loses the money to the grubby hands of Mr. Potter and Potter tells George he's worth more dead than alive because of his $5,000 life insurance policy.

George is about to jump off a bridge and kill himself before his guardian angel, Clarence, hatches a plan to show him what Bedford Falls would look like if he never existed. George Bailey finally realizes he really does have a wonderful life.

This is a scary thing to write in a sports column, but the reason I watch George Bailey on Christmas Eve is because a few Decembers ago, I thought my life was worth more dead than alive. My Clarence was named Fred Barr.

Most of us can wear a happy face, but the truth is, we really have no idea what the guy walking down the street next to us is thinking. I was thinking about it. Josh Lassi had his suicide note written.

The first time I met Josh was at Shooter's Bar over, of all things, a girls' youth basketball issue eight years ago.

"You and I connecting over me being a jacka** coaching on the bench," said a teary-eyed smiling Lassi. "Those are the things I believe are the evidence God exists."

I was on the girls' youth basketball board and a few parents had called because the assistant coach of one of the fifth grade girls' basketball teams was "too verbally aggressive" with the referees. I volunteered to help. I didn't know Josh at the time, but I did know he played the guitar and sang at venues around the area. I figured he'd be pretty cool and self-aware. I was right. Four swigs into my peace-offering beverage Josh said, "Wait, is this like me going to the principal's office? Am I getting booted from coaching?"

Josh was not booted. He sucked on a lollipop during games and it reminded him to keep his mouth shut and not yell at the refs. Passion is one character trait Josh Lassi has always had. Now, eight years later at age 45, he knows how to deal with "the suck" a little better and I'm not talking lollipops. More on that in just a bit.

Josh was an I.T. guy by day and the lead singer in the band Fire Water Gospel Choir by night.

"If 25-year-old Josh knew what 45-year-old Josh did for work, he'd kick his a**," said Lassi shaking his head in true George Bailey-fashion.

I helped out the River Falls Baseball Council in 2018 and we were holding the "Grand Slam Jam" at First National Bank of River Falls Field. Four bands in one day to help raise funds for the volunteer-built and run ballpark. Two of the bands had local connections: one was Fire Water Gospel Choir. The other was my youngest brother, Joey, who lives in Ft. Walton Beach, Fla. One of Joey's best friends living in nearby, Destin, was Lee Johnson. Lee is originally from Duluth, went to college at St. Cloud State, and had been living in northwest Florida for close to 10 years. Lee was planning on coming up to watch Joey play and visit friends and family anyway, but noticed the lead singer in one of the other advertised bands, Fire Water Gospel Choir, on a Facebook post.

"Greg, is the guy singing in that Fire whatever band named, Josh, by chance?" asked Lee over the phone.

"Yeah, Josh Lassi," I replied. "How'd you know that?"

"I'm pretty sure that's the same Josh I used to hang out with every summer back in Duluth when I was little," said Lee, sounding like he was witnessing a small-world miracle of chances.

Josh Lassi's parents were divorced and he lived with his mom in Texas during the school year and his dad in Duluth during the summer while growing up. At age 14, Lee’s family moved to another side of Duluth and high school came and went.  Sam Wainwright and George Bailey were using a telegraph to communicate in 1946. In the mid-1990's with no cell phones yet, the two next-door neighbor summertime best friends lost track of each other. Lee eventually moved south to Destin after college. Josh moved north full-time and went to UM-Duluth, earned a degree in psychology, and married his college girlfriend. They moved to River Falls in 2006 for her work and family.

"She had a big girl job," said Lassi. "I was waiting tables and playing 18 shows a month."

Josh had a George Bailey-type life; great kids, great wife, nice house, and he was still playing music and recording some original material with Fire Water Gospel.

About two and a half years ago his Uncle Billy moment came in the form of a divorce. It blind-sided him.

"I don't think people look at me and think that guy goes to therapy and that guy takes anxiety meds and that guy stays in bed for days just to be able to function," said Lassi. "It's been the majority of my life for the last two and a half years, but nobody sees that."

"I've written the note (suicide). I was mad. I was angry. I wanted her to feel responsible (if he committed suicide)," said Lassi. "Now I know I'm the only one responsible (for my mental health).”

Josh Lassi said there were three things keeping him away from the wrong side of the dirt: "God, a handful of friends, and my music."

This past July, Josh teamed up with local River Falls musician and producer Jonathan Earl Nelson.

The July-November collaboration produced "Joshua," Lassi's first solo album. The six-song EP is titled "The Only Thing That Hasn't Changed." It was released this past week.

"I get a lot of crap for writing sad songs but sad songs for me get the poison out," said Lassi, "and I needed a lot of that the past couple years.

"I don't see BoJon's (flower shop in River Falls). I see the old video rental store next to it and my wife and kids picking out movies and games. I just saw her at every street corner and I had to get away from the ghosts so my brain would work."

"Ghosts" is the title song of the album’s first release. 

"God doesn't work on my time," said Lassi. "He works on His time. You re-introduced me to Lee (Johnson) seven years ago and I needed him. He’s been my best friend again."

With Josh's two kids both graduated from high school, Lassi packed up his things and moved to Destin, Fla. Lee Johnson has been Josh's Clarence in Destin, and so has the change of scenery.

"There's nothing down there that reminds me of my married life," said Josh. "I think people try to fight that and try to make it not suck and you can't because it does suck and that's ok."

This is a sports column and I’m not a music critic, but we’re already breaking archaic societal rules and talking about mental health and suicide, so here’s my biased critique of his new album now streaming as “Joshua” Lassi on Spotify, Pandora, and other streaming services.

His songs tell stories. Some, like “Ghosts,” are dark. My favorite, “Working Man’s Prayer,” is an uplifting country sermon. It’s the best kind of sermon, too. Easy and simple, but so powerful. It’s Lassi’s personal Lord’s prayer set to a catchy tune. The album finishes with the sing-along bar close banger “Still the Boys.”  

Lassi’s songs are stamped with his life's zip codes. One-part Texas tumbleweed and two-parts frozen flannel and facial hair. It's honky-tonk with a high I.Q. The technical genre on-line says it’s outlaw country, but there's a soothing Florida flavor, like soft southern air on the bayou at sunset. It's definitely not yacht rock, more like pontoon tunes if Jimmy Buffet was tatted-up and grew a cool beard.

They are the type of songs you hear in a sticky hot chicken bar in Nashville. They make you think. They're soulful and rich. River Falls' Chris Silver performs the fiddle on "Ghosts;" it's haunting with zero pun intended. Silver's mandolin work throughout is like a Bob Uecker play-by-play call, fluid and flowing with exquisite ease.       

The album's songs are a progression of chapters dealing with love's loss and building a new foundation. Music was the medicine and Lassi says, "I have this musical outlet (to deal with depression), but a lot of people don’t have that. I’m such an advocate for getting help (for mental health). I was so reluctant. I was either going to get fired from my job or get up out of bed. I got my a** up and got the help I needed. Talk to somebody. Anybody."

Everyone has a Clarence. It’s our job to keep our eyes and ears open.  

“I do have a good life,” said Lassi. “I’m happy in Destin. Just because one bad thing happened doesn’t mean I don’t have a wonderful life.”

According to George Bailey, every time Josh Lassi plays the guitar strings, an angel gets his wings. Atta boy, Clarence.     

From Horseplay to Heroes, Greg Peters, Josh Lassi, musician, suicide, mental health, column