My brother, my brother, my brother.

As I grew up I had 2 older brothers. One was 13 years older and the other 9.
Both of them were called Connolly. My name is Bryan.
The THING was that mom wasn't married when she had my brother so she used the name from her first marriage. She was divorced and my father had some problem with getting his own divorce and marrying mom.
I had to learn this from papers I found after my mother died.
My brother is not for Hillary. The older brother, who is still called Connolly, does not vote and has no position. He was a child from my mother's first marriage to an Irish Catholic cab driver.
I have lots of southern cousins named Bryan. Whether John changing his name to Bryan had anything to do with my knowing them I really don't know. I like them, or dislike them for what they are.
I gave John some things when he came. I gave him my father's guns. I offered him a picture and then he also took another. He wanted this picture of our father's mother and father which the family had gotten colorized. That was okay and then I showed him a picture of our mother's mother and he wanted that. But I showed him a picture of mom's father and he didn't want that.
Now I'm a little irritated that he took the picture of our grandmother. It was a classic photo that grandma had posed for. It was a portrait photo. It had been here for all the years I had been here with mom and I feel maybe I shouldn't have let go of it.
He made a big deal over one of the guns. Like that was his gun. It was a single barrel shotgun they call a 410. It has something to do with the gauge of the barrel.
I wonder how often Mr. Bryan went hunting with his little Connolly son. Was it just like when I went hunting with him?
And did he bring his Connolly son to Florida just like he brought me?
I hear some stories about Florida but I think I'm being lied to.