Watching Big Brother
My brother served in World War 2. In 2017 he “checked out of the grand hotel,” a phrase he coined for leaving this world, having left his “kid brother” (me) a wealth of good counsel, encouragement, and files enough to fill a basement. During my high school days, he wrote a poem that hit hard and deep at the evil he sensed in his day. The sharpness of it stunned me, all the more since I was a tenderfoot in matters of such weight. That was over 70 years ago when America still proved to be “the land of the free and the home of the brave” − for which the “Great Generation” is still venerated.
