After reading a condolence from Pam Clifford I see a good starting point for my story of Jerome. First off I have to call him Jerry. When I was a year old his mother died. He came to live with us. Keith, Joann, and myself. I don't remember that, but I do remember bringing his Navy buddies home on leave. I'm sure Pam's brother was probably one of them. I remember his beaming smile, so I get the "Monkeyface" thing. I remember wearing a pair of his old navy pants to school when I was about ten. All the kids laughed. A year later Bell Bottoms were all the rage. I remember him playing his electric guitar. I remember him bringing me LP's from Columbia. Simon and Garfunkel Wednesday Morning 3am and Beatles Rubber Soul in particular. I remember the respect that he had for my Mother, probably more then her own children. I get that other people got that respect too. Glad to see it was returned to him by the people who came in contact with him. Jerry(Jerome) you truly were "My Brother from another Mother". Speaking for all your cousins, we are devastated and saddened, but will remain in our hearts till we all meet up on the other side.