everytime you smile at someone,

it is an action of love, a gift to that person, a beautiful thing.


Mother Teresa

I MET DITH PRAN ON ONE OCCASION, in June of last year, as I waited for a bright purple bus to come barrelling down a road so kids with lightning-bolt scars on their foreheads could grin and hop up and down.

As I stood on line, he struck up a conversation with me, telling me about the things he had photographed and where he had been. He nudged me to pose as he took several pictures of me reading from my tattered copy of Prisoner of Azkaban, a final shot ending up in the New York Times. The entire day was a blur of Scholastic employees, purple buses, and a giant Hedwig costume, but the thing I remembered was his smile.

It lit up his eyes, his face, and the faces of everyone around. The way his eyes crinkled and his face warmed up was infectious. He seemed the happiest man on earth, like he had never seen a wrong in his life, that he expected only the best out of people.

Of course, that is all entirely wrong. For four years, Mr. Dith suffered through the "killing fields" of Cambodia, during the genocide that tore the lives of thousands and thousands of people apart. Dith Pran was one of those people, finally escaping the brutal torture of Cambodia's own Holocaust.

And yet he smiled, the most beautiful smile I have ever seen, despite torture, brutality, and the bitter truth of death. He had seen anguish and pain, but he knew that it was over, and that he had worked to stop genocide, campaigning against prejudice, hate, and suffering. And so he smiled, with care and sincerity.

Thank you for your smile. Be at peace.