My brother, Bob

This is my brother Bob. He worked fifteen years in high construction in South Florida, walking along those skinny beams many floors up. In 1993, he fell from a third story when a safety rail gave way. He was very beat up from this accident and has a bionic right arm. He also lost a finger in the Navy on the USS Forrestal in a boiler room accident.
He's tough though. He just kept getting back on the horse! I have a great deal of respect for my little brother. He fell again a few years later from a ladder at Blair's school. More broke stuff! He's worked the trades all his life and he drives trucks now for a restaurant supply house. He is a working man. He is a family man, married twenty seven years to Julie. He is a survivor. He's my brother. I'll always stand by him, even though we have often been at odds throughout our lives. I hope he'll stand by me. Every girl needs a tough brother. He's mine!

The black and white photo is the two of us ( we called him Skipper then) in the foc'sle of our Hinckley. It was a staged picture for a Detroit magazine. But we did bunk together in the foc'sle of every boat we lived aboard until I left home at eighteen. Dr. Bob Head, one of my favorite psychiatric colleagues, used to say that was what was wrong with me!