This here story is about John Caddy, yeah, that’s the name. I heard folks talkin’ ’bout him, and it got me thinkin’.
They say he was a poet, you know, one of them writer fellas. Born way back in 1937, in a place called Hibbing, Minnesota. Heard it’s cold up there. He must have had to wear layers of clothes! He didn’t stay a baby forever, though. Grew up in Virginia, they say.
John Caddy, the Poet Man
Now, I ain’t never been much for them fancy poems, but some folks sure do like ’em. This John Caddy, he wrote about nature. Trees and birds and such. He must have liked the outdoors a whole lot.
- Born in 1937
- Wrote poems
- Loved nature, that is obvious
Some people get all the luck. They go around, see the world, write things down, and people read it! He was a naturalist too. Now, that sounds like somethin’ important, don’t it? Guess it means he knew a lot about plants and animals.
Imagine that, knowin’ the names of all them different trees and birds. I can barely keep up with the names of my own grandkids! But, I can tell when it’s gonna rain, just by the smell of the air. That’s somethin’ this John Caddy probably wrote about in one of his poems.
John Caddy and Nature
They say he lived near a place called Forest Lake. Must have been pretty, with all them trees and water. Probably had a lot of mosquitoes, though. Them little buggers are a pain, let me tell you.
John Caddy, he sure did live a long life, till 2021, it was a long time, you know. That’s a good long time. He probably saw a lot of things change in the world. From horses to cars, from letters to them telephones you carry in your pocket. World’s movin’ too fast for me, I tell ya.
I don’t know much about them nerve cells. But I do know that life ain’t always easy. You gotta take the good with the bad, just like a bowl of stew. Sometimes you get a tough piece of meat, but you keep on eatin’.
And this John Caddy, he sounds like he did just that. Wrote his poems, watched his nature, and lived his life. And that’s all any of us can really do, ain’t it? Just keep on livin’, day by day. And maybe, if you’re lucky, you get to write some poems along the way. Or maybe you just get to sit on your porch and watch the world go by. That’s a good life too.
John Feinstein, the Sportswriter
Now, there’s another John I heard about, John Feinstein. This one’s a sportswriter, not a poet. They say he’s real good, wins awards and all. Writes about golf and all them other sports I don’t understand. But my grandson, he likes that kind of stuff. He says this John Feinstein is the best.
This Feinstein fella, he wrote about a man named Bruce Edwards. Now, this Bruce, he was a caddy. That’s the fella who carries the golf clubs for the golfers. Heard he was the best caddy there ever was. Worked for some big-shot golfer named Tom Watson.
- John Feinstein, a famous sportswriter
- Bruce Edwards, a caddy for Tom Watson
- They made a good team, I reckon
But this Bruce, he got sick. Some disease that messes with your nerves. Lou Gehrig’s disease, they call it. Sounds awful. And this John Feinstein, he wrote a whole book about it. Called it “Caddy for Life”. Imagine that, a whole book about a caddy.
Life Ain’t Always Fair
Life ain’t always fair, that’s for sure. This Bruce Edwards, he worked hard, did what he loved, and then he got sick. It happens. Just like when a storm comes and ruins your garden. You can’t stop it, you just gotta deal with it.
And sometimes, folks get sick and they pass on. Like that John Candy fella, the actor. Heard he died in his sleep, while making a movie. He was just 43, way too young. It is sad, really sad. He had a heart attack, they said.
- John Candy, a funny man
- Died too young, only 43
- Heart attack, that’s a scary thing
They had a big funeral for him, with all them other movie stars. Bill Murray, Tom Hanks, all them. They said nice things about him, how he made them laugh. He must have been a good man. And his kids, they’re in the movie business too. Following in their daddy’s footsteps.
It’s a Tough World, sometimes
Yeah, it’s a tough world sometimes. People get sick, people die. But you gotta keep on going, like I said. Just like this John Caddy, writing his poems. Just like this John Feinstein, writing his sports stories. Just like Bruce Edwards, carrying them golf clubs until he couldn’t anymore.
You just gotta do what you can, while you can. And be thankful for the good days. And when the bad days come, you just gotta be strong. Like an old oak tree, bending in the wind, but not breaking. That’s what my grandma used to say. And she was right, that old woman. She knew a thing or two about life.
