A good friend of the family, the father of a good friend with whom I grew up, passed away this week. It was one of those situations where, because the man had been incapacitated by Parkinson's and a series of strokes more than six years ago, people say of the passing, "What a relief for the family." Regardless, he will be missed, as he was an incredibly funny, talented, thoughtful guy.
When I've thought of him this week, I've remembered him strumming his guitar at a friend's birthday party, singing the following poem.
Boa Constrictor
by Shel Silverstein
Oh, I'm being eaten
By a boa constrictor,
A boa constrictor,
A boa constrictor,
I'm being eaten by a boa constrictor,
And I don't like it--one bit.
Well, what do you know?
It's nibblin' my toe.
Oh, gee,
It's up to my knee.
Oh my,
It's up to my thigh.
Oh, fiddle,
It's up to my middle.
Oh, heck,
It's up to my neck.
Oh, dread,
It's upmmmmmmmmmmffffffffff . . .
Here's to you, Don. May your love of music and sense of humor live on in all who knew you.
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