My father and his brother, Dick, were the best of pals. I remember that greeting on so many warm summer Saturday mornings when Uncle Dick would come to our house to have coffee with Dad. They’d sit around the dinette table in our little kitchen and talk about things as friends do. I don’t remember anything very profound in those conversations but I could see the bond they had, even though I was a kid. I guess the most memorable thing was that they were always laughing about something. Mostly, I can’t ever recall a harsh word between them. I wish now I had asked how that “Hello, Moe” greeting had started or why they called each other Moe, but I’m not sure...
