A Walk and a Talk - Brothers Defeat Willowbrook

“Big steps. Take big steps,” I insisted. 

My fifty-nine-year-old younger brother smirked, knowing we had hit upon something important.

Swinging his arms to counter-balance each step along the New York City concrete street, he strode forward, parting the morning rush hour people-traffic before him.

“See, you don’t drift off to the left like a drunk man. A little speed and you stay on course.” I had just instituted our new regime: no holding onto my arm. “Long steps,” I continued.

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