Today marks the twelfth anniversary of my beloved father’s death. This blog is a chapter of my memoir, The Reckoning of the Black Butterfly. May the memory of Frank. T. Snyder be eternal.
On this Memorial Day, remember to never forget.
Not last night, but the night before,
Three tom cats came knocking on my door.
One had a fiddle, one had a drum,
One had a pancake stuck to its bum.
A couple nights ago, a variation of the above playground song came to mind. Take note, this isn’t a cute, nostalgic story where I want to skip rope and chant rhymes. It’s a doggone tale about a stinky tail. Something indeed stuck to one’s bum, but it wasn’t a pancake.