Ch x - My Brother Pat, AMHERST,OHIO

My Brother Pat I have a brother. His name is Pat. He lives in L.A. We grew up two years apart in Amherst, Ohio, him being the older. Old pictures show two cute little round-headed Irish boys. He seems pleased, I seem delirious. We got along, for the most part.

Because our sister was sick, our parents picked the boy they wanted to focus on. My dad picked Pat, who looked like him, and shared his passion for games. They played chess and cards and went to Browns and Indians games.

Likewise, I looked more like our mom, and we both liked to cook. She chose me, and took me shopping and to flower shows. Later, as our parents grew apart, dad started taking us to games together. So I was not left out. But by that time, a fierce bond between those two had set in.

Pat was a tussler. He had a football helmet, but it was not, shall we say, regulation. Still he charged at the foundation of our house, time and time again, until the helmet cracked end to end, and Pat had to get stitches.

He liked wrestling, and on Saturday mornings we watched it on our black and white set. Our