The greatest person I've ever known, Maribel Diaz, died this week. Her traditional Mexican funeral was a tutorial on what matters in life. When I arrived to see her casket in the primitive garage of a crumbling house in a poor neighborhood, I wasn't disturbed at all. She was a global traveler who worked at an aristocratic country club. Yet, she preferred to hang out in the barrio with her family and loved ones. Like Jesus, she was royalty (of character not bloodline) riding on a donkey. I lay a palm branch at her feet.
