

Advertisement
"Bitch, bastard, damn, s--t." Okay, her menschiness has never taken a traditional form. But the crowds roared. The performer was 2-year-old Sarah. The stage was our living room. The set was our father's lap on one of our giant round sponges -- 1970s artsy chairs -- in orange and beige stripes, upon the bright green carpet of our living room.
What does it mean to be your brother's keeper? Lessons from the Cleveland kidnappings