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By BURT LINDSEY
The first rich memory I have of my brother is him coming home from the Army in 1964. He was 20 and I was 13, a teenager looking up to his big brother.
Twenty-eight years later, my brother was dead at a too young 48.
A lot happened in those years. You see Willie was an alcoholic. I guess that’s what eventually killed him, in a roundabout way.
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