Saw this on Amazon today . . .




Brother Broken

Foreword Clarion Review 

https://www.brotherbroken.com/

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   Brother Broken Photo taken at John's funeral May 1990:  Front row l to r, Pauline (Pauly), Mom, Dad, me (Céc) , with John's photo between Mom and Dad. Back row l to r, Mitch, Gerard (Gus), Roger (Rod), Denis Good morning Sunshine. I think it's time for you to meet the family. Dad was a WWII vet. He had served in the Royal Canadian Navy. After the war, he pedalled a bicycle four hundred miles north of his parents’ home in Gravelbourg, Saskatchewan. He bought land and started a farm. Dad caught the eye of my mom with his drop-dead good looks. She was the cute little farm girl whose family lived nearby. She stole his heart, and they married in 1949. Marguerite and Jean were their names, but most people called them Margaret and John, the Anglicized version of their French names. They were French-Canadian Catholics, expected to populate with more French Catholics, so they started une famille . Their first-born was my sister, Pauly. After Pauly came Rod, Denis, John, m...
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  Brother Broken Meet the protagonists: Denis, John and Mitch.  Their stories begin in the 1950s and 60s, in a village, in Saskatchewan, somewhere north of normal. It's not one that's dark or depressing, it's a story of hope and gratitude, with a touch of ridiculous. Some parts are complicated, because there is nothing straightforward pertaining to broken. I remember my brothers with words, I share the story of their lives. l tell of what decent boys they were, what they meant to me, how their lives were ordinary and sound before all the trouble started happening. I write, so people will learn the goodness of my parents, the wholesomeness of my extended family, that my kin weren't lowbrow hicks, who screwed-up raising kids. Brother Broken Foreword  Clarion Review   https://www.brotherbroken.com/ Follow on:    
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  Brother Broken Good morning.  Meet Uncle Emil: Uncle Emil was a large man with the mind and innocence of a child. As a baby, he had suffered brain damage due to a severe fever. The injury marred his intellect and comprehension. He could never be self-reliant. To us, Emil was like another fun kid to play with, though much bigger. His size, we thought, we could exploit. It couldn’t hurt to have a perceived bodyguard on our side. In reality, Emil was the one who needed protection, and no one understood this better than our grandmother. Even though Emil looked like he could take care of himself, it didn’t take much prodding to reveal his childlike vulnerability. We weren’t allowed to tease him, which was something we could hardly resist. It took but one encounter with my grandmother’s wrath to eradicate the temptation. Uncle Emil had many qualities of a child’s favourite playmate. His body was plump, like a cherished teddy bear. His big hands could have been fashioned after...
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