A remarkable friendship.
Over the years, Rob reminded me many times that he would not have passed Matric maths, had it not been for my tutoring him.
Of course I enjoyed hearing it.
And I, reluctantly initially, but later wholeheartedly, agreed.
It was one of those things…..and there were many others…that would come up during the course of our endless conversations, over the years. … little milestones, marking the journey of our shared lives.
He loved bringing this up.
Somehow all those early conceptualizations of abstract mathematical language had come really easily to me.
It was simply a gift.
I don’t recall ever doing anything to enable it, or even improve it, until much later on in my life, and even then only marginally, even though Rob’s mother Lisa insisted that I should become an actuary.
For a short while I took her seriously.
But I was able to pass on to him enough of the required skills to allow him to make it through those ridiculous exams.
I think he even got a B
But I remember being surprised, that what I had thought of as elementary ideas and skills that came so easily to me seemed to give him such a problem.
I knew he wasn’t a shmendrik.
But it took me a while to understand just what was going on.
He simply didn’t have the kind of brain that I had.
One that could take information in, store it, reorganize it, and then use it to solve similar problems.
He had another kind of mind.
One that wasn’t tethered, like mine to only the things I had already absorbed
He was a totally original and creative thinker.
One of the few truly original thinkers I have known in my life.
And what I saw, was that the building blocks that I had considered essential to thinking and solving problems,
he didn’t need….or even care for, because he was already outside of those boundaries, investigating the world beyond where we were.
Many times he blew me away by saying something so outlandishly out of the box, that i sometimes thought he had just smoked too much.
But invariably once I had time to let things settle, I began to see that it was he who was the teacher, and I was the student.
And in the process, this enormously thoughtful man introduced me to much of what I have learned about life to this day.
Every day I miss him.
And there isn’t a day that goes by that something doesn’t remind me of him.
Sometimes the smallest thing.
We met when we were five.
Little picanins running around the streets of Greenside, Johannesburg, South Africa.
At aged 12 my mother died, from a horrible cancer, and as was the custom, being a Jewish family, my father, brother, sister and I sat on a hard bench doing “shiva” as people in the neighborhood filed through and wished us “Long Life” and ate the chopped liver and herring that someone had made.
We were the mourners.
Rob was the only one of my friends who came.
On his own.
Feeling absolutely awkward.
But wanting me to know that he cared.
Even then…..he was a remarkable friend.
We had seventy odd years more of similarly extraordinary shared times.
How many times did one of us fly half way across the planet to make sure that we could be together.
Johannesburg.
Capetown.
London.
Reading.
Else.
Amsterdam.
Vermont. New York. Boston. Saratoga. Montreal. Quebec City.
Kea.
Aix……Athens…..Aix.
And finally Marseilles,
Where I finally held him in my arms……or he held me……and I said goodbye to him.
Where next my friend?
Probably everywhere I go…….
Because you are always there.