August 2025
**Siblings**
A couple of weeks ago I went to see my younger brother who lives in New Jersey, and about 5 miles from the neighborhoods we grew up in.
Billy was diagnosed with non-hodgkins lymphoma nearly 20 years ago. They chemo him down as needed, and even did some treatments while I visited.
His doctors say it is a miracle he is still alive.
For the most part, he lives a normal life. He works overtime, still plays hockey, and is the wiseass he has always been.
I believe he is alive by the power of love.
I came from humble beginnings. Let me re-phrase that. We were poor. My whole neighborhood was poor. It was democratic that way. The playing field was even. The major difference was parenting and parents. A lot of the people I grew up with were hooligans. Whenever the gang wanted to do things that could get us arrested or in serious trouble I went home. I was streetwise. I had to be, especially being small and mouthy. My mom raised three boys on her own working factory jobs. While she couldn’t afford to give us tennis or piano lessons, there was not a day that went by that she didn’t hug us or tell us that she loved us. She taught us respect and manners. She would defend us like a mountain lion with cubs if she perceived an injustice or threat.
This demonstrative show of love worked on me and my younger brother, but my older brother was angry from the womb to the tomb. Even love couldn’t change him. But it made me and Billy good. We were mischievous, but not criminal. We never wanted to disappoint Mom.
My brother installs, repairs, and maintains the machines that distribute medications in hospitals. He works in New York, Pennsylvania and New Jersey. He is a dedicated, hard worker, a real troubleshooter, not just a parts changer. He drives to the locations, so while I was there he drove the rental car. I concluded, he thought most drivers were idiots, and he would prefer no one use the highways but him. He yells at them and calls them names, but only in the car and never at the person.
He never blew the horn.
The sweetest moment for me was going to my mother’s grave. We sat there on each side of her headstone talking and reminiscing. And though I didn’t take a photograph, the image I imagined will always be with me.
I love my brother. We are close as we can be, whatever that means.
If you have siblings, call them right now and tell them that you love them.
Life changes fast.