Papa Santos is a father after my own heart. When his now grown sons would bicker, argue, and escalate to blows, he would make them take off their shirts and hug one another bare-chested. 

            “This is your brother. Your only brother.”

             He would solemnly repeat this mantra, ignoring the smell of their perspiring bodies, only allowing them to untangle themselves when their anger subsided. Today the sibling relationship bears the fruit of reconciliation from the loving persistence of their father.

            I’m not sure child psychologists would prescribe this unorthodox method of conflict resolution today, but I still love the image of angry, sweaty brothers locked in a close embrace. In a world of cynical adversaries shooting pointed barbs across the Twittersphere, I could sell tickets to a show where people who find themselves at odds get in the ring and are forced into a drawn-out, skin on skin hug. No talking points, no agendas, no one single winner. Just Papa Santos chanting (whispering?): “This is your brother.”