Alas, we were just getting into it when we were interrupted by a hail from Morgoo the Magnificent. "Hey, bro!" he cried, dragging me to my feet and hugging me like an excited bear. "I'd like you to meet my wife, Beatrice."
Now I hate people calling me bro or brother unless they really are. He was. He is. I'd named him Morgan myself, after the pirate. Like me, he, too, had been born aboard the schooner Elizabeth, and, yes, he'd recently informed me that he'd married a German countess, but of course I'd dismissed it as typical sibling rivalry. (See "The Guru and His Gospel," January 2007.)