Ibrahim Ferrer is no more

I don't usually report on news that are not my own.
Although this might seem like an exception, it doesn't really feel like one. Those of you who know the voice and sounds of Ibrahim Ferrer and the Buena Vista Social Club will probably understand.

Ibrahim Ferrer is gone. Today, at 78, carrying long and painful years of poverty and hardship, and just a few of recognition and fame, he, the majestically humble Ferrer calmly wrapped his last song, smiled at the crowds, and exited the stage for the last time.

Something about Ferrer's music was just different. It came from familiar places, filled with hope and remembrance, breathing the rhythm of not just its own roots, but the roots of all humanity, opening its eyes to the first flickers of a warm and youthful sun.

His was the only music that made me smile, and love, and cry, and dance, maybe all at the same time. It was the only music that made me live and remember to live, and to forget.

At 70, Ibrahim Ferrer was shining shoes to survive. At 78, from the hot and humid alleys of Havana, he had moved souls and maybe even changed lives.

Can you recognize a king in a beggar's clothes? Watch the dance of his tapping finger. See the sparkle in his eye. And listen.

Just listen.

And you will know.