My earliest memories of my big brother are of him barreling through the back door to bum a dollar for gas off Dad. He always seemed to have his head under the hood of a car back then.
He married Frances, the love of his life and moved out before I was in my teens, so we didn’t spend much time together for the next 30 years or so, other than at family holiday dinners.
But Gary was always looking out for his little sister. Continue reading