Cain and Abel. Esaw and Jacob. Moses and Rameses. Richard the Lionheart and King John. Duane and Greg (Allman). The Marios. Alan and Brian. All brothers. But actually, this story starts with Father's Day.

I had a subtle “aha moment” recently while in Nashville. Valerie, my former wife, asked me if I was going to be in town over the weekend and if I could spend some time with her, my son and his family (and my 3 year-old grandson Kinley, aka Captain BubbleKiller). I mentioned I would be in Dallas for business and to spend time with my mom and brother. Her monotone response revealed a tone of disappointment.

“Why, what’s going on?” I asked.

“Well, it is Father’s Day, and we thought it might be good to have dinner to celebrate you.”

Whoa! Yikes! Oops! Senior moment! Brain fart! (*Note - if my ripe language offends you, please note: The English word fart is one of the oldest words in the English vocabulary. Just sayin.) The truth is that it never crossed my mind, even for a moment, that I hold the title of “father,” let alone that anyone would want to celebrate me for this distinction. The question as to “why” I don’t “get it” disarmed me for a good part of the day. We did arrange a “not the real day but close enough” Father’s Day dinner at Applebee’s (one of few that offer Weight Watchers “points” designation to menu items: the WW Clanners know how big this is). It was great fun, especially when Kinley and I pretended to take a nap after a full day together: kids art museum, lunch, the movie, Up! (a must-see flick) and Grand Dude enjoying his 6-point WW dinner.

I felt honored, loved… and this leads me to what I am even more passionate about from this year’s Dad’s day; The Power of Brother’s Days. I am NOT suggesting yet another opportunity for commercial exploitation; and stuff added to our epidemic affliction from Stuff Obesity Syndrome (SOS). I am taking this day to (also) celebrate the magic of brother-to-brother. My brother Alan was 62 on June 22. I am 58. Since I was a kid he has always been my hero: All-State high school basketball player, record-holding high school basketball point scorer (I was at that game that he scored 43 points), “Most Likely to Succeed” Senior, international model, friend to the rich & famous (Grace Slick, Egon Von Furstenberg and others), successful clothier, successful real estate designer & developer and (this makes me crazy) that guy that can wear ANYTHING and always look mah-vel-ous! I have spent many of those years trying to grow through my admiration and to process some “real time” realities; that I was Alan’s “fat little brother Brian, you know the sweaty guy in the marching band who uses a safety pin to hold his pants together,” or responding to the reaction from people when they learned who I was and would say, “Wow, you’re Alan Kagan’s brother? You don’t look anything like him” and others. He was everything I thought I wanted to be.

The unanticipated joy that this story holds, is that over the last three years we are interacting (for the first time in our lives) in ways that have given me a new understanding of what brother and friend and hero truly mean. Life’s trajectories had sent us on divergent paths, with the periodic holidays and family visits being the only times for story updates. Our pages finally merged one year after my separation from Valerie, when he came to spend a weekend with me in Nashville; our first one-on-one time ever. Suffice it say that I was excited, nervous and challenged - the result of the many things we didn’t know about each other and the things we might have thought we knew about each other.

So what? When you stop trying so hard to spread your wings, you often find that the breeze you’ve been fighting lifts and carries you to places unimagined.

The outcome? Our time together opened a bridge between two distant shores, spanned by a structure built from trust, admiration, honesty and agape. I chose agape due to its broad meaning: The love of God; the love of God for humankind; love feast; brotherly lo

Agape, not just love.

Humankind, not just a religious belief.

Love Feast, not just love offerings.

Brotherly, and definitely Other-ly.

My brother is not a father; he’d be any child’s guiding light.

My brother is not a father; I’d put him up against many claiming the title.

My brother is not a father; he won’t get a Father’s Day card, dinner or present.

My brother is not a father; he gets the unconditional love of The Father’s day, every day.

Happy Father’s day, Happy Birthday and Happy Brother’s Day… every day.

For dinner, we’re going to split a hero.

For emphasis – (b)ro

PS. Alan and I shared another journey with our friends in Prague last week. Magic.