(JTA) — When I first met Keith Siegel, he was the last of four siblings still at home. He was in high school, and I remember him pedaling off early in the morning. I was in a different world, graduate school, and was renting a room from his parents as I needed a quieter place for writing my dissertation than the graduate dorm. Keith was reserved like his father Earl, a professor of maternal and child health. His mother, Gladys, was lively; she had been a nurse, and now was busy with creating batik garments and attending board activities at ...