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My Brother is a Spectacular Man

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I drove to Idaho to hang with my brother this weekend. He and I don’t get a whole lot of time together and I haven’t been up there in five years or more, so the trip was overdue. This weekend it struck me once again that my brother is a spectacular man. Being over four years my junior, I always thought of him as my little brother. But he’s not really, and hasn’t been for a long time. In fact, often I feel it’s the other way around. He was 14 when dad died and he was an infant when mom died. Think about that for a second. Not that our family has the market on tragedy or anything. But that one fact seems sharper when I think of my brother, the youngest. If he turned out to be a career bank robber you might say, “Well, he did lose his mom so young and his dad when he was a teen. Such formative years.” But somehow, in the way the universe delivers somehows, the opposite happened. My baby brother is generous, absolutely overflowing with love and so friendly it still