Saturday, August 15, 2009


My first friend was my little brother, Walter, who died when he was two and a half, and I was five. He was called "Little Walter" to distinguish him from my dad. I don't mean that my dad and mom were not my friends. Of course they were and of course they were first. But Walter was my first buddy. In that special way, he was my first friend.

Brothers since then have always interested me. There were sets of brothers that I played with in each neighborhood where we lived as I grew up. There have been brothers involved in my law practice: there were two who built a wonderful business together, and there were two who hated each other so that they each carried a gun when they knew that they would have to see each other.

So it has been with a special joy and apprehension that I helped (am helping still?) raise two brothers.

I heard this on NPR yesterday about two brothers. It was powerful.

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