Where the Lovers and Misfits Meet

Laurel Canyon, Los Angeles 2010

I will never forget the day that altered the rest of my existence. Unaware of what awaited me, I drove up Laurel Canyon, past my old tree fort, the Country Store, and Jim Morrison’s house, until I reached Brier Street.

I had just reached out to the first person who showed me how to edit, to see if he could help me, or guide me to someone who could help me polish a passion project that I just finished for kids in Panama. It was to be the start of a global movement that I wanted to achieve and set in motion, after my extensive travel and working with kids over the last few years. 

He was too busy, but he had a man who was living with him that might be able to help. So he invited me to come and meet him.

I arrived in the early afternoon, and walked into the room. I felt time freeze. Worlds Collided. The West met the Middle East. Sitting in the middle of the room was a man with a yellow parakeet on his very bald head, editing. He whirled his chair around and I locked eyes with him, and my heart fell to the floor, the floor that seemed to not really be there anymore. I’m not sure how gravity was holding me upright.

I really never believed in all that fairy dust stuff that songs are made up of, or the lucky ladies lore that books were composed of, was even remotely a real thing. But here I was frozen, staring into the abyss of these dark brown chocolate liquidy eyes, that were wise beyond this realm, eyes that had captured things from worlds I couldn’t even begin to imagine or comprehend.

I managed to muster out a soft scratchy meek hello. He said Hi back with a slight accent that I couldn’t place. He was a giant of a man, 6’5 and his rebel warrior energy alone took up the entire room. His presence was domineering and a little frightening, but his eyes were velvet warm and his voice soothing and hypnotic.

I felt an immediate connection that scared me almost half to death, and a lot of exhilaration at the same time. This can’t be whom I’m supposed to walk my path with? This doesn’t make sense! Is this who I’m supposed to be with? I’m not even sure what a Palestinian refugee is. All I knew was the scary propaganda I heard on the news from them trying to regain their land back, similar to what happened to our Native American Indians here in the States. But other than that, I knew nothing.

He rose from his editing chair, gently lifted the parakeet from his head to his shoulder, and extended his hand towards me. His gesture was so chivalrous, it seemed almost anachronistic, a relic of courtesy I hadn't believed still existed, especially not in America.

My name is Joseph, he said smiling with a warm handsome grin. “Why don’t you tell me about the project you are working on and need help with?”

My enthusiasm ignited as I began to share the details of my project, "The Questioneers," which I had developed with my students. As I unfolded the story of our collaborative creation, Joseph's eyes sparkled with intrigue and curiosity. He nodded thoughtfully, signaling his genuine interest and willingness to assist.

"I must admit, I can't offer much in terms of payment since I'm on a teacher's salary," I hesitantly confessed. He leaned in closer, his gaze piercing yet kind, and whispered reassuringly, "That's okay. I believe in the value of this project. I'm here to help you." His words not only offered support but seemed to reach deep into my soul, strengthening my resolve.

I was beyond grateful and that is how our story began.

For weeks, we poured our efforts into editing the piece. Each day after school, I'd journey up the canyon, arriving to collaborate deep into the wee hours of the morning. Joseph's approach to editing was not only swift but infused with a sensitivity that impressed me profoundly. He possessed a quick wit that enlivened our sessions, and as he shared fragments of his life story, I grew to admire him even more. Amidst the laughter and edits, I found myself wondering how a man who had endured so much could maintain such relentless positivity.

He confirmed my beliefs in knowing and following my gut. Although he found the footage from Panama to be mediocre, he understood the challenges I faced and the complexities of the situation I navigated. Appreciating my efforts, he committed to doing his utmost to salvage the work—and he succeeded. He skillfully transformed the raw footage, managing to convey the essence of my project in a compelling and moving way.  

As we neared the completion of our editing work, Joseph shared that he needed to return to Lebanon due to visa requirements—a rare opportunity for someone in his position as a Palestinian refugee, but due to the complex nature of his work visa and why he was in the US, he needed to return. 

He invited me to join him, proposing a plan aimed at authentically filming with the children and offering a fresh start from my previous experiences in Panama. Initially, I believed the Panama producer was committed to the welfare of the children and the growth of The Questioneers organization. However, it quickly became apparent that his primary interest was in advancing personal clout and profiles. He treated the trip more like a vacation, focusing on partying rather than the meaningful work we had planned. This lack of compassion and professionalism deeply disappointed me, especially as this behavior was all too common in an era before the MeToo movement highlighted such issues.

Joseph, having grown up in a refugee camp, understood the significant impact that a genuinely supportive project could have on the children. His insight was aligned with what I had originally envisioned for The Questioneers, which my prior endeavor had failed to achieve due to the producer's misguided priorities.

We would spend the entire month of December in Beirut, Lebanon, in the very place where he was born and raised within a refugee camp. Although I was somewhat unclear on the logistics and his family's living arrangements, the opportunity was too meaningful to decline. Being a lifelong traveler and now committed to connecting children globally, this was a calling. There was no way I could say no. 

Even though National Geographic had just shown interest in The Questioneers book and concept, I wasn't ready to hand over my vision to them—it wasn't fully realized, nor was I ready to let it go.

Thus, I accepted his invitation. It promised to be the journey of a lifetime, one that all my previous life experiences seemed to have prepared me for. I ventured forward, filled with anticipation and ready to embrace the unknown.