A sort of nuclear glue

Days like Carl Sagan's birthday make me miss my brother. He can do a pitch-perfect impression. I am sure I have said this before. One Thanksgiving he just erupted with the most beautiful "billions and billions," and we all gawked and laughed.

I called him tonight to demand a performance and he obliged and I laughed and clapped my hands. He is not, however, thrilled about my "Let's bake billions and billions of apple pies and watch Cosmos and call it a party" idea. Oh well.