Although he is my brother, there is still much for me to learn about the doings of Anthony Donovan. As a younger sister, he was out and about while I was still living in childhood. Even when I began to notice the world, my focus was different and in many ways, still is. Nevertheless, we have accumulated a lifetime of memories. There is one extraordinary moment when our lives collided that always stands out to me. It was on April 24, 1971, when we were both part of the half a million people marching in Washington, D.C. to protest the Vietnam War. I was 16 years old, there with high school peers, while Anthony, unbeknownst to me, had come from college. Eventually, in the wee-hours of the 25th, the bus long gone, I was wandering alone, when I literally stumbled across his legs. After a brief conversation of the hows and whats and whys, he walked me to Constitution Ave. and flagged down a car with a New Jersey plate. Giving the driver and his companions the best big brother directive, and a few bucks, Anthony got me out of the capital and headed home. Before we said goodbye, I realized it was his birthday. A reason for me to stay, I suggested. He didn’t agree, as he knew what was coming: his arrest with over 12,000 others.  As we parted in the blue dawn, I was years away from understanding that his role in anti-war demonstrations was more than a lark. It is his mission, he says, for the next generation.

Being the first girl born into a family of three boys wasn’t always fabulous. For my mother, yes, certainly, my arrival was a delight. Bonwit Teller dresses and plenty of tea parties. For my brothers, I was an anomaly. I couldn’t throw, didn’t want to wrestle, wanted to skip and flit and float. Thankfully, Anthony was an easy confidant. A natural protector. His kindness apparent even as a boy. Endlessly funny. I can still picture everyone laughing at his antics until they ached.

Before too long, we were a hearty six-kid family. Most reaching teen years during a time of political and social turmoil. Hard to fathom how anyone could parent during that time without losing their mind. Looking back, I am so grateful that Anthony hung around us younger siblings longer than most. In high school he played music and football, he pole-vaulted and had the coolest girl-friend but still made time to bring us to NYC for tarot readings, jazz clubs, a Cuban or Thai or Indian restaurant; eventually we roamed all over as he showed us how to find our place anywhere we wanted.

Anthony was, is, easy to love. I could not imagine a better person during those years that I was slowly becoming and he seemed already whole. He let me crash at his place. He covered for me, and supported me, even when my life was a string of bad decisions. He was a safe haven, and better still, was around when I moved forward in a saner direction.

Following his own path, Anthony became a RN, and during the worst years of AIDS cared for many who would not last though the epidemic; afterwards he managed the medical clinic on Wards Island which served a 1200 bed homeless shelter. He was also a mediator, going to prisons and inner city schools, offering conflict resolution pathways. For well over a decade, he’s been providing nursing care at a hospice facility, as well as actively involved with anti-war organizations world-wide. To say he has lived/is living a life of service is an understatement.

His first book, World Peace?, based on fifty interviews with UN Diplomats, was self-published in 1983, and reissued in 2003. Documentaries came next. After “Dialogues” which won Best Political Documentary in the NYC Independent Film Festival, “Good Thinking,” completed in 2015, includes archival footage, as well as current interviews with a wider spectrum of humanity than the dangerous narrow view of those who order, make and ready these inconceivable weapons [Nuclear Weapons] in a secret world with a great portion of our public money, (AnthonyDonovan.com).

As a man of great faith, Anthony has sought to bring together those around him, and has been doing just that with his interfaith initiative in the lower East Side of NYC.

On most days, you will find him asking for peace, harmonica ready, lifting up those who seek refuge from oppression, hatred and poverty.

I am still learning what Anthony does for his community and our world, but I am most grateful to him for being a dear brother, one who reminds us all to look up here and there.