This past saturday, John McCaddy died. And it is tragic.
He fell, he did not jump. It is tragic that his fall came from the hands of a loved one, but it was an accident, so what can you do. The offer has been made to fix him, but, I dunno. I think maybe its just time.
Oh John, all the good times we had. I remember when we first got you. I'm not sure from whose house you were taken, hence the reason you are still around. You remind me of all the crazy times I used to have, all the good, clean, and otherwise exceeding amounts of fun we would have. Oh John, what fun we had.
I remember going to City Island with you and Jen and Christy. It was then that we discovered your love for house music.
I remember who tragic the passing of your other comrades was. Captain Pudwash's untimely death by burning. The pig-faced girl being thrown from the moving vehicle as Lael and Jess hung on for dear life. You will be missed, but you join the ranks of beloved gnomes who have gone the way of the stone pile.
Remember when you were kidnapped at camp? How I fretted and longed for your return! And when you came back, what a joyful banquet we had in your honor! We took you out to eat, and you even went canoeing with us! Oh, you did enjoy camp!
All the Messiah stories! You were always the best listener! How many weird and awkward conversations you overheard while in our living room at the apartments. You were loved by all. You knew how to treat the ladies, and we all learned from your winning outfit.
You were with me along my many moves. From my house to Dan's in Enola. Then to the chilly times at Locust Lane. You even came with Heather and I on our Honeymoon... you did enjoy the beach! And you didn't mind the long car ride home!
How I'll miss your company and insight as we toiled together in the study as I worked on papers. I could always count on you to give me a smile as I worked into the night.
Oh, John, lover of House Music, first rate gnome from a forgotten yard, you will be missed.
RIP, buddy.
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