May 4, 1993
Mbeya, Tanzania
Dear Carol,
Happy Birthday to my favorite sister of whom I am so proud. I never get a chance to tell you this, but I look at what you have done with your life, and I always smile. I tell stories to people about you and your family. The teachers at my school always love looking at my foto wall, and seeing your pictures.
In the front cover of my journal, you pasted pictures of you and the kids and Al, when you sent me the journal. If I sit down in public, and write in my journal, people always come over and chat me up. They want to see why I am writing in a book. So I show them the fotos in the front. No kidding, probably 500 people have looked at your pictures, and always with a million questions.
The record number was a month ago. I was in a small village in Mozambique, near the market. Mike had gone into the market, to get something for us to eat, and I was sitting in the shade, watching our packs, and writing in my journal. Kids immediately came around, sitting or standing in a circle around me, about 15 feet away, to stare at me. They always came around. Mike and I didn’t look like we were from there. No matter where we were in Africa.
Kids first, then a couple of adults, usually mothers, on the far periphery discussing what the occasional kid was telling them. I paid them not much mind, it always was like this. I looked up occasionally, and made eyebrow wiggles at the kids, and they would giggle. One girl, about 7 or 8, seemed pretty at ease with me, and was sitting closest. I stuck out my hand, and greeted her in Portuguese. She jumped at first, then hesitantly shook my hand, and returned the greeting. Well, that was it for my portuguese, just greetings, so I tried siSwati. Then in a mix of me with high school spanish and siSwati, and her with Portuguese and siShangani, we had us a conversation. We talked about our families, which is always the first conversation in Africa.
And I just magically happened to have some pictures of my family pasted inside the cover of my journal, so I flipped it open and showed Querida, which is what her name turned out to be.
That was all it took, and the kids forgot about their fear of my strangeness, and came crowding around. Soon I had 20 kids all around me, with Querida sitting in my lap, staking her claim on being first. They asked lots of questions. They were simply fascinated by your hair, and that of your kids, because it was blonde. And your blue and green eyes too. And asking me about the foto of Al, with the kids, on the beach. I let them pass the journal around so everybody could see the pictures.
Soon, adults came drifting in, getting in on the pass around. Before long, the whole market, and town seemed to be there, looking at and talking about your pictures. Must have been 100 people that looked at you that afternoon. And those pictures changed my status from stranger, to a man who has a family.
Mike arrived back with some avocados and bread, and we kicked back and ate them in the shade, watching the people enjoy the fotos. He told me he had wondered why the market had suddenly emptied out of people.
Having you as my sister has brought so many nice things into my life over the years, and I love you for that. I have learned a lot from watching your life vicariously through your letters. You write great letters. It is not the individual actions, but the fabric that you weave while living your life. It makes me glad to be your brother.
You are really something.
Something excellent.
Happy birthday kid. I love you.
Taking a minute to tell someone that you love them, is one of the best things that you can do. 
I have another sister, Bunny. She is amazing too.