My first memories of Joe revolve around him “torturing” me every night at bedtime. We shared the same room and he being 10 years older would come to bed later. First thing he’d do was to make sure I was awake. And then he want me to ask “Guess what?”. No matter how long I resisted I always broke down “OK, guess what?”. His reply – “Hot potatoes aren’t cold!”. And then he’d start up again, wanting me to ask the same question. “No, no I’m not going to ask the question because I already know the answer”. But he wouldn’t give up and eventually I’d cave in and ask “Guess what?” only now the answer would be “Cold potatoes aren’t hot!”. On and on, repeated all night, every night until he moved out at the age of 18 or so.