He is tall, but his poor posture often undermines this aspect of his appearance. Prior to putting his possessions on his back and moving to Chicago, he lived next to a river. Some summers, he would swing from a rope and splash into the river, while, some winters, he would walk atop the very same spot. One year the remnant winds of a southern hurricane tore down many trees and branches around his river home. In the weeks that followed, he used a chainsaw to cut the debris into manageable bits. Often while operating the chainsaw, he said to himself, “This is how you lose a limb.”
His mother is an artist, a talker, and a worrier. His father is an architect, an introvert, and a comedian. While growing up, his family hop-scotched from one Protestant denomination to another—Episcopal one year, Methodist the next, even Lutheran for a time. He no longer goes to church, while his family has finally bit the bullet and become Catholic. As a child, thoughts of death and eternity would make him physically ill. He still feels nauseous when he thinks of these things but no longer loses his lunch.
When he awakens in the morning, he looks at his wife and longs to stay curled up beside her, and sometimes through out the day, longs for when they both return home, and watch a movie or one of their favorite shows or, better yet, talk about what they long for. He longs to earn and to provide, to create stories and share images, to occupy his mind and his time, to be with his friends and laugh, to be a good person.
Brian Wiebe is an award winning filmmaker whose films have screened world wide. He is currently completing his Master's Thesis in the Cinema Arts & Sciences department at Columbia College Chicago. He is married to his lovely wife Michelle. They have a dog named Stella and a cat named Feelings.