One of my favorite celebrities, Jimmy Stewart. I remember hearing him read these poems to Johnny Carson on The Tonight Show years ago. I couldn't resist picking it up at the used bookstore. It was on the dollar table. The poems are fairly mediocre, but personal and very much a part of his personality.

A sample...the end of his poem titled Beau

And now he's dead.
And there are nights when I think I feel him
Climb upon our bed and lie between us
And I pat his head.

And there are nights when I think
I feel that stare
And I reach out my hand to stroke his hair
But he's not there.

Oh, how I wish that wasn't so,
I'll always love a dog named Beau.

If you have ever loved an animal (and who hasn't) you will feel the emotion that is real beneath the simplicity of his verse. Quite a man, Jimmy Stewart. A war hero, a quite philanthropist, a civil and gentle gentleman. We don't have many of his ilk today.

We miss your kind, Mr. Stewart,
You had such class and style.
I'm glad I found this book today
And thought of you a while. ( )

This is not really as much as a review as it is a memory that pops up whenever I read this book or even just see it on the shelf.

Simple poems from a man who made life look simple and easy many times on the big screen. Lovable, charismatic, charming... a slow talker who I wished was my grandfather.. either of them would have been fine, as they both had passed away before I was born. Jimmy defined himself as a man with heart on Tuesday, July 28, 1981. That was the night this took place: Even as a teen, I was always the last to retire in my house (and I have been that way ever since) and on that night my mom was about to head up to bed... She was giving me the speech about not staying up too late and I informed her that Jimmy Stewart was scheduled to be on Johnny Carson. So, she returned to the couch; sitting in that spot she would sit in when she was about to go do something else but, wanted to watch something quick. Me? I always sprawled-out on the floor with the family cat next to me, under the coffee table. I remember Jimmy reading the poem about Beau. There wasn't a dry eye in the house... In jest I told the cat, "See?! Don't die or I will have to write a poem about you."

I bet I have told that story a hundred times... or more and, you know... I never did compose that poem but, maybe one day. I guess the important detail is that I did buy Jimmy's book as soon as it came out and I have read that poem whenever I wanted to see if my tear ducts still worked. Heck, now we have YouTube and I often times listen to him read the poem and I read along in my book. I'm just a old animal loving softy, I guess.. Well, just now I opened the book for the first time in many years and the first thing I spied was the obituary for Gloria Stewart that I snipped and slid inside. Noting that, Jimmy's full front paper obit., from several papers is still in my mom's house... She saved them for me, due to my being deployed when he passed, and because he was my favorite actor. Oh, the book takes me back to a simpler time... My hair was long, I didn't require glasses and bills were non-existent. Now the opposite is the reality. Oh how I wish that wasn't so...

Disappointingly slim, but it makes me wish I could have known him. Fun, touching little pieces. ( )

Had this collection been written by anyone else, it likely would never have been published. But it was penned by Jimmy Stewart, and thus found its way to a publisher and then into the hands of his fans. Not great poetry, it nevertheless has a cadence and charm of its own that is pure Stewart. The explanations as to how and why the poems came to be written just adds to the enjoyment. ( )

Delightful ( )