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We are no longer a 6-pack of sibs: a death in the family


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A tip of the hat to my brother, who gave me, as a teen, my first dictionary, The Red and The Black, and Wind, Sand, and Stars. He turned me onto Montaigne, The Anomalies and Curiosities of Medicine, Extraordinary Popular Delusions and the Madness of Crowds, the Greeks, and the fact not all women grew up to shave their legs.

 

A graduate of St John's College, he was my source for anything classical, a bottomless reader, and a funny/serious man. I remember going to see the Exorcist with a crowd of my friends and him. As it was just getting ominous, but before anything scary happened, he gasped very loudly, which made everyone in the theater shriek and then laugh because they'd blown their tension. The crowd roared through the rest of the movie. That was his kind of humor.

 

I lived on his couch for a couple of years after I finished college. I got subway money and lunch money by taking from his humoungous change jar.

 

I got married in his backyard, and he manned the grill.

 

He was my Apple guru. He left me with 3 wonderful teenage nieces and a widow I'm delighted to have in the family.

 

He was 59, and as my sister put it, heartbreakingly brave. His widow says that people told her she and the kids were being brave, but that if he could find joy in his dwindling days, how could less be expected of them?

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