I first met Roslyn Zinn at an anti-Vietnam War demonstration in 1968. I was part of a large group of people in a chapel at Boston University that had become a sanctuary for a soldier who had gone AWOL. The soldier spoke about his opposition to the war. People supporting the soldier spoke about the risks he was taking and about the bloodshed he was opposing. We, in the sanctuary, sang songs. I was much moved and eventually I was in tears. A stranger sitting near me noticed my distress and handed me a cup of water. That stranger was Roslyn Zinn. Later, a supportive group gathered outside the sanctuary. This group walked together with candles, maintaining the vigil. Walking next to me was Roz Zinn whose energy, verve and generosity connected me to her. We walked in step with each other, we talked, introduced each other to our husbands, David Rubin and Howard Zinn, both BU faculty members. We became friends. And from that night forth our friendship grew and grew. Over the years, we shared meals and conversations and other vigils and our families grew close. In the 90s when Roz began to paint, our friendship took on new dimensions because we each cared about and inspired each other's artwork.