How I Edited My Late Brother’s Memoir

By Donna Papacosta

When we were kids growing up in Astoria, New York, I was a reader. Mom plunked down the carton of milk at breakfast, and I’d obsessively read the type. My brother was not a words guy. Unless a book was related to baseball, he wasn’t interested.

Years later, I became a professional communicator, writing and editing for a living. My brother, meanwhile, had a very short career as a bank robber, following stints in restaurant management and car sales.

I don’t think Joh...