“Louis,” I say, “let me see if I got this right. You were comparing your experience to a Holocaust survivor’s?” There is no hesitation for Louis. “No,” he says with the clarity of a saint. “No, there is no comparing what this man has suffered and what I’ve lived through.” Now he thinks and his eyes moisten before he speaks again. “No, I wasn’t competing with him.” A tear trails down his cheek. “I was connecting with him.”
