In my first memory of him, my big brother is nine and very much alive. It is summer, and he is wearing cut-offs, Sears tennis shoes, a plaid shirt with pearl snaps. We are standing by the closet at the top of the stairs. As I watch, he grabs his shirttails and yanks them apart, unsnapping his shirt from navel to neck in a single, ripping motion.
|by Colin Berry|