David and his brother Doug have a wonderful friend, Dan, who they call their “other brother.” Dan lived next door when they were all young, and spent much of his childhood in the Coursin’s home.
Dan is a true mensch. He’s been checking in on David’s parents regularly these past difficult years, and it was Dan and his wife who showed up the night of David’s father’s stroke to call 911 and make sure David’s mother was okay. Since the stroke, Dan has been visiting the hospital regularly, and has been a key player in the cleaning effort. He spent hours with me on Sunday afternoon wading through pounds of newspapers, magazines, plastic bags stuffed with folded papers and cut up tissue boxes, old cards, letters of David’s from his trip to Europe in the early 70’s, photographs, masses of Christmas cards signed and never sent, mounds of paper towel and paperclips and elastic bands. Dan has located a food pantry to take all the extra food in the house, and is coming this afternoon to box it and carry it over there. He’s helped us find a place to recycle all the paper, taken us to lunch, and stopped by every day to offer help, support, love and hugs.
And Dan has the mannest man cave I’ve ever seen. We had dinner with him on Saturday night, and he took me to see his house. A great hunting enthusiast, he has his trophies stuffed and mounted in a room his wife finally gave over to being the man cave. It’s like walking into a museum. There are deer, ducks, a large rodent that looks like a wild hog, and Dan’s greatest prize — his grand slam in turkeys, having bagged all four of the American major subspecies: Eastern, Osceola, Merriam’s and Rio Grande.
Dan himself is a grand slam.
Grace Mattern 
That is what should be in the dictionary when you look up Man Cave.