I called him ‘Brat’ instead of Brad, mainly because that was the way big sisters were expected to think of a brother seven years younger. The only quarrel I remember was once when I was left to babysit and he refused to ‘obey’ me. Can’t say that I blame him. The bedrooms were on the lower level in our house, and the first time I returned from college he came pounding up the stairs to throw his arms around me. The next time I came home I looked forward to the same enthusiastic welcome, but he was outside shooting baskets with the guys and all I got was a curt “Hi.”
He didn’t grow as early as classmates, and childhood dreams
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