It was not a surprise to me when she said she loved his face, my brother (I drop the “in-law” because that really has nothing to do with why we are related.) I think we are always given the tools to find our tribe. 

She, always being drawn to the creative, is why we became friends in the first place, in Chicago. Without brushes or books, was it written on our faces at the corner coffee shop? Or emitted from soul to soul? How could she see that he too is one of us, from just his portrait, posted a world away? 

I captured his image at the “Je suis Charlie” rally in Aix en provence — the uniting behind the freedom of speech after the horrific events against the newspaper Charlie Hebdo. He may still have the coat. Probably not the sticker, but the feeling remains. He still transmits this love for the arts, for all things creative, for the love of movies, and the sound of voice. And she, beginning her adventure into podcasting, must have heard that collective yes, that spirit of “I am,” of “we are.” 

I mention it now because more than ever, don’t we need to listen? Don’t we need to connect across lines and borders? Across genders and geographics? Don’t we need to look at each other, and find a commonality? We have been given the tools. We have been given the warnings. The tattered scripts. The reminders. To see each other. To love each other. Face to face.