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My Brother

My brother was 47 years old when he died on Martin Luther King's birthday in 1989. He never attended a "sit-in", he will never have a holiday named after him, and his name will fade in remembrance after his last family member passes away. But he was a good, kind hearted, loving, and funny man who never met a stranger and who said on the last day of his life that he held no grudge against anyone and he hoped no one held a grudge against him. There's no point to this posting except to pay tribute in my own small way to my brother's memory. He was an amazing man, and I loved him.


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