Of all the people I’ve met in my life, Jack is one of the only people who made me believe in some sort of magic. Not abra cadabra magic, but something shimmery and bright in between the regular layers of everyday things. Around Jack, things always seemed brighter or more shimmery than what’s normal.

The first time I met him was in Mexico, in a house by the beach. We were sitting in a circle of strangers trying to get to know each other. He told us that his superpower was being able to make conversation with anyone.

Okay, hotshot.

I was jealous, but it wore off quickly, because he was kind. Jack proved his talent— chatting each of us up, getting to know everyone in the group, even the (occasionally) crabby old man, who is no longer, who could still hear, but not very well.

Shimmer #1:

One night in Mexico, we were walking around town, margherita-tipsy, really just trying to get home, when someone called out to us from a patio. They were drinking, lounged back in chairs outside of a restaurant that looked like it was closing down for the night. I’m not sure what they said to us. Probably something about being white and American.

I went all don’t-look-at-me-I-won’t-look-at-you-lets-just-keep-walking. But Jack turned and smiled — yelled something back! — which they liked and laughed at. They went back and forth, and then suddenly Jack was walking over to their table, right to the center of the group, the owner of the restaurant, who was offering him a shot.

They drank and cheered, everyone laughing, and the man gave Jack a card saying, “If you get into trouble, call me.”