The year 2025 began–well, I can’t recall how the year began—it now seems too long ago. Let’s just say, the year began sometime in January. I remember almost nothing about the month except two things. A sad memorial for my brother, who brought so much joy to me during his life. And a day of celebrating Jerry’s birthday at Olive Garden. “Would you like more soup?” a server asked. Oh, no thank you, I say politely. “Oh, but it’s endless, I’ll bring you more, and more, and how about more breadsticks?” I recall not feeling well after we left.

