Happy birthday to my kid brother, born on this luckiest of dates 48 years ago. Fortune always seemed to favor him. He was the handsomest of us boys--not a particularly high standard to be sure. He dated the prettiest girls, he had the most friends, and he led a carefree life untroubled by thoughts of saving for the future. (Any undercurrent of envy that you sense, dear reader, is not your imagination.) He acquired a serious streak when he turned thirty and finished school, got a steady job in Southern California, and ended up with a beautiful lady lawyer.
When all’s said and done, I have to admit that he was and is a lucky guy. After all, how many people can claim me as a brother?
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