My brother Penn can't be summed up, or even adequately described, in any speech. He was not a type, he was himself alone. Many of you here know more about his work than I do. The best I can do here in his honor is to give you a few personal snapshots and observations.

First, a forceful and mischievous child! Very verbal at a very early age. And adventurous. One of his earliest exploits was at age three, the year 1944. He managed to slip away from home with a slightly older boy and walk to a distant railroad yard, where they were found by police before they got into a boxcar. His story was they were going to fight the Japanese.

He and I spent much of our childhood in Millersville. PA in rural Lancaster County . It was a Mark Twain childhood, compared to the strictly supervised, tightly scheduled life of today's children. During the warm months we were outside on our own as much as we could be. No one really pushed us to take formal lessons in anything, or to get into structured activities outside of school, or even to read. In grade school we had little homework.

You might have thought that Penn would have grown up lazy and lacking in self- discipline. But later Penn was to credit this environment for the development of his remarkable intellect and social skills. He told me that by having free time he learned who he was. I give credit to our parents that books were everywhere in our house, and Penn and I did read voraciously (there was no TV then) because we wanted to. Suppertime was punctually at 6:00 pm around the dining room table and we had discussions there. Through our parents we were exposed to many types of music – opera, spirituals, folk songs.

Penn was not shy, he had many friends with whom he improvised games and spent time in their homes. At that time there was little risk in such freedom. Except – when Penn matured at about age 12 we moved to the city of Lancaster. My parents, Ivy League educated themselves, knew how intelligent Penn was; they were intellectual themselves, but non-conforming behavior frightened them. They wanted and expected Penn to be a preppie. Penn would have nothing of this. His interest was in people less fortunate, and less conforming. He gravitated to members of the working class, some of whom weren't quite respectable. One of his best friends was a charming Italian-American whose father was the local Mafia connection.

Penn's school grades dropped and he became rebellious. He insolently wrote in a high school theme that his hobby was sleeping. This was never true! He continued to read on his own, to think, and to teach himself. His marvelous command of the English language and grasp of literature and history developed. He also found time to exercise his considerable athletic abilities on the high school swimming and football teams.

I believe that two seminal experiences during his high school years matured him and gave him the direction for his future life. One was the trip to Europe he and I took with our father. Penn was 15. He learned much more than the average tourist does. He took note of the anti-American bias of the European working class and the hold over them of the Soviet inspired Communism. The other experience was a summer job when he was 16 – a stint in a non-unionized wire factory. These experiences prompted him to become involved with anti- totalitarian socialism in his college years at the University of Colorado.

As I said, I'll not try to detail his career, which has been wonderfully described in many obituaries and tributes. I do well remember a day in 1963 – Penn had graduated from college, was living at my parents' home in New Jersey, and it had seemed to me was drifting somewhat. A phone call came -- apparently he was needed in New York to work on planning a big civil rights march in Washington. In a few minutes Penn had thrown some clothes into a bag and shot out the door. From that time his momentum never paused. He was a missionary without religion. He wanted to save the world – not for reasons of self-advancement, but because the world, the political world, needed saving from totalitarianism, racism, and worker exploitation of any kind. And he was blessed with the talent, good health, and drive to make things happen.

In addition to his political career, he had many other enthusiasms. In our family I called him the arbiter of elegance. He knew about the right food, the right wine, the right presentation of everything. He loved opera and our brother's jazz music, he could analyze any football or basketball game. He and his devoted wife Mal renovated their two beautiful houses, customized to the last detail. Last year after his first brain surgery he planned and executed an eight hour canoe trip fishing on the Potomac with our brother Grover and my two sons.

I can't say that he and I were always close – for awhile our paths diverged. He didn't care much for young children. However, his devotion to Gene, who was with him in “the movement” and to Grover, stayed undiminished. I need not say that he and his wife Mal were an almost legendary team. And as my sons and Gene's daughters grew, his interest in them grew. My son Carl interned with him and also in the State Department with Penn's facilitation. One always learned something from just being around Penn, and I think his influence on my sons has been profound.

Penn was born a high functioning, driven person, and with others he could be impatient, occasionally unkind. But last year, when he suddenly learned that fate had overtaken him, any arrogance he may have had was gone. Even as he struggled remarkably against the impending disease, he constantly expressed appreciation for the closeness of his family, his friends, and to all medical and other caretakers. Have I mentioned his sense of humor and gift for wisecrack? It never left him. Brave and uncomplaining to the last, he continued to dream of returning to work. I can still hear him whispering to me: “I can't strategize. I'm so tired.”

So Penn lived and died. So we should remember him. He was one of the most gifted and courageous individuals I have ever known.