Our brother Stephen has left us far too soon. Lots of memories and thoughts have spun through my head these past few days, the first of which is wondering whether I would be writing this but for his courage and loyalty to family. When I was about five, Steve and I accidentally disturbed a hornets’ nest at the family property in Upstate New York. Although I was younger by eight years, he knew this presented far more danger to him -- he was allergic to stings. We were instantly stung several times over. Steve started running but looked back to find me swarmed, screaming, confused and, most importantly, frozen in place. He could have gained a position of safety and implored me to run. He could have called out for help from the farmhouse. Never hesitating, instead he dashed back into the tempest, swept me up, and ran with me in his arms all the way back home to our parents. That episode was one of many, both serious and humorous, that underscored who my brother was at his core. His heroism wasn’t limited to rescuing little brothers. My parents also witnessed him chew out the TV set when a scary program made our elder brother Paul cry when they were tikes. Something that stands out in my memories are the contradictions: Steve was relatively shy and private, yet eager to join in any social gathering, and an animated storyteller when among those with whom he was comfortable -- talking with both his hands and that deep radio voice of his. He could be both selfless and competitive -- devoting extended time to teaching me chess when we were young, but also making me run for my life when I would start winning a few games. He was sometimes impatient and short-tempered if frustrated. For example, he might break a leg off of a couch on a doorframe if it would not pass easily while being moved. In those instances, I would tease him and call him Herman Munster. Yes, that did tick him off even more, but I had built up considerable speed in my legs from our chess matches. More importantly, I would also be amazed to see the gorgeous wood carvings he made and the antique furniture pieces he brought back to their original state through monk-like dedication and patient skill. He could be stubborn and go after things doggedly. These were qualities that helped him earn three state wrestling medals. Holding grudges would seem to be a natural extension of these personality traits, but he held none. When it came to kindness and thoughtfulness, there was no flipside. In an age where electronics do the heavy lifting for you, Steve is the only person I’ve known who never forgot a family member’s birthday. Ever. He did not use Facebook or Outlook. His internal calendar was guided by what I first mentioned -- loyalty to family. We noticed brother. We love you and will miss you. Our bond has been tested with your passing, but can’t be severed in this world or the next.