Ian has declined to return to a physics classroom from that day to this. In fact, within a year, he had left for Spain, traveled south to Granada, and settled into those famous caves with the gypsies. It was another year before I was to see him again. It's hard to say why he had picked that place, though for a fact Ian has always been guided by lights that are shown only to him.

With the same genius that he had applied to the study of physics and classical guitar, he had learned from the gypsies the flamenco style of the Sacramonte. The Heredia clan had adopted him, and had given freely of the information he needed. He had in fact studied Spanish before his departure and was quite fluent , which I'm sure helped matters. He learned much from these people, as well as found among them many who would remain his dear friends. When I did see him again he was changed --- the passion that had abandoned him after Kemp's death was restored, and he was full of both optimism and confidence. We talked much about art and life, concluding always that these two things are inseparable. He was determined to order his life accordingly.

There is not yet an end to this story. It has been interrupted in recent years by a serious illness, and Ian must now teach himself kinds of things that other people take for granted. Simple things. And he must recover memories and knowledge that was taken from him by a disease that humbles even well-trained and capable doctors. The pain of the two or three years that followed is too considerable for me to recount without pain, so let me just say that this year, at least, we celebrate, because the disease appears to be gone. And this year I get to watch him again teach himself, become alive with energy and a love for life. I don't think he will go back to physics, but the guitar is once again in his hand, and, on a good day, the playing is magnificent. Lately, he has been playing ancient Jewish pieces and applying himself to the study of middle-eastern percussion, something he had begun before the illness crippled his mind.

Well, I'm sorry for going on like this. Your story prompted it. The human mind is a marvel, but when it comes to educating it, curing its diseases, we are mostly bumbling idiots who very often do more harm than good. Great teachers are as rare as truly gifted artists. In my sixty years, much of it in education, I've personally encountered less than a dozen gifted teachers. In fact, our teaching institutions do all they can to discourage and thwart the gifted, whether they are teachers or students. As long as that's the case, my friend, we are guaranteed only of obtaining perfect mediocrity. Gifted people, where they persist, will be on their own, sometimes invisible and lonely. They are at odds with society and, most alarmingly, what they possess is too often regarded as a defect.

As I think about this I remember that some people see gifted people in rather romantic terms. They see their loneliness and suffering as necessary and admirable elements. But, really, it's not like that at all.

I remember the story of the poet in Peru who put a bullet in his brain. So far as I know he was not unhappy with his poems or life in general. What killed him was the indifference of his countrymen to his poems and his efforts to preserve and celebrate their culture (he was an amateur musicologist, I think). It was apparently an insult too severe to endure.

In truth, I knew nothing of the man before I heard the report of his untimely death. Ian and I were riding together in an automobile. The radio was on, and at some point there was a news broadcast mentioning the details of this tragedy. I began to weep. My wife was driving and must have wondered what was going on, because I remember Ian saying something to her, like: "It's okay. It's natural." His understanding of the situation was perfect, but I've wondered since just how much of his understanding came from his personal suffering. Had this same indifference touched him in ways that I didn't understand? Did it play any part in his sickness?

We know what to do when our children become ill with the measles, but against the disease of indifference and the upsidedownness of society's aspirations we are almost helpless. About all we can do is arm ourselves, and especially our children, with a sense of humor. It isn't bullet proof, but what else is there.

Oh, I neglected to get back to you about your web log analysis problems. Did you work something out? Do you want our scripts? My ulcer attacked again, and I've been on my back for a week.

Cheers, EB..........

E.R. Beardsley............