I got my first guitar when I was in 6^th grade.  From the moment I saw the candy red, Hohner Stratocaster imitation electric guitar, I was in love.  I played it constantly, and I wrote albums in my head.  Music washed over me in every facet of my life.  I constantly talked about it, shared it, and listened to it.  By the time I was in 7^th grade, I obtained a real drum set, and ever since that moment I have been active playing.  I love music more than almost any other thing in life, and feel that God has given it as a gift to His creation.  Any one of us can associate certain songs with certain moods and memories.  It creates nostalgia, attaching our minds and hearts to seasons we have lived through like no other creative medium can.  It facilitates community, speaks to a connection with God, and moves us physically and emotionally where words cannot.

Why are so many people willing to risk so much to cross the American border? The award winning independent film, Sin Nombre, elects to show us, rather than tell us. It is a poetic portrait of a highly politicized issue. Filmmaker Cary Joji Fukunaga researched Honduran immigrants’ plight, riding cargo trains loaded with hope-filled sojourners. His resulting first feature is a beautiful and troubling trek towards the Rio Grande. It also immerses viewers in the brutal initiation rites of the Mara Salvatrucha. Started by Salvadorean immigrants in Los Angeles, Mara Salvatrucha’s network has now been exported (or rather deported) across Central America. Sin Nombre is a riveting story of escape and a haunting fight for survival. It is not recommended for the squeamish. But for those who want to get inside the immigrant experience, Sin Nombre puts a compelling face on those who often die ‘without a name.’