A Rose for Oliver

I went out this morning, coffee in hand, to the patio and found that the yellow rose, in bud for weeks, finally bloomed.  And right after that heard that Oliver Sacks died this morning.

A world famous figure, neurologist, writer, all around brilliant man, but also a perennial learner who wasn't above corresponding with the likes of me on a subject he touched on in his book Musicophilia.  When the paperback edition came out, he asked if he could quote me in there, did so, acknowledged me along with much more famous people, and sent me a copy.

What a privilege to be able to touch even briefly on such a life.  I owe him personally, because he took up arms against the notion that people with synaesthesia are in some way lacking, when in fact they are among the super blessed.  Some of my own observations of that phenomenon are what we discussed, and he was among the very few people who did not dismiss them out of hand.

So this rose

and the drawing I made from it today, are for you, Oliver and the work you did, right up to the moment you left us.