Why in the world did Daddy ever tell us Uncle Albert had a tail if we couldn’t ask questions or ask to see it? The next few times I saw him, I followed him around, hoping his pants would fall down. He was emaciated as only an eighty-five year-old life-long smoker can be. It seemed like a real possibility. For a while, every time I was around him, whenever he stopped, I’d be following so closely, I’d run over him. Eventually, Daddy ran me off. I had to resort to peeking around corners. I never did get to see that tail, but I think my brother did. Boys have all the fun.