Many years ago, a cousin of mine who I didn’t know moved to Israel. While there, my cousin, who is white, met and married a black man. I know nothing more about him. But I do know that they had a son and they named him Mark Henry. The three of them moved back to the United States. She has since died and the whereabouts of her husband is a mystery, even whether he survives above ground or lives quietly below.
In 1990, we had a bit of a family reunion in San Francisco, at my brother Laurence’s home. Our Atlanta brother was with us. Laurence had somehow made contact with Mark and arranged for us all to meet for the first time.
We took a long walk together out on the streets of San Francisco. Generally, folks do double takes when they see me with either of my brothers. This was true of any combination of us. Now we add Mark to the scene and lo and behold, he too resembles us.
There was a moment when the four of us were walking up the street, all looking remarkably alike, three white guys and one black guy. This spurred people to not only do double takes, but triple and quadruple takes.
I’m sorry to say that the whereabouts of Mark Henry these days is also a mystery. Not so many triple takes anymore.