He still corrects my grammar. I still threaten to push him off the dock. But now when he says “It’s ‘fewer’ not ‘less,’” I say, “Bless your heart, Bradley.” And for some reason, that’s become the nicest thing either of us knows how to say.
I pushed him off the dock.
And yet, every Christmas, there he was. Sitting at my grandmother’s dining table, correcting everyone’s grammar. My Only Bitchy Cousin Is a Yankee-Type Guy- The...