You were my spanish teacher, but somehow the Spanish didn't seem so important even though you obviously loved it, loved it enough to tolerate my own mediocrity. And then you were my friend. And in between, I turned up at your house thinking (heaven knows why) you would be interested in my life and somehow you always were. I have no idea why or, looking back, how you and Helen tolerated the intrusion but I'm forever grateful that you did. You made me feel valuable and valued and an equal. You were a truly special teacher and man...later when I was pretending to be an adult, you offered wisdom and humour when my life went off the rails, and when it came back on again, I was lucky enough to share a few evenings with you and I knew you were happy for me. I feel blessed that you came into my life when you did, and even more blessed that you stayed a part of it for so long. Thank you seems lame, but thank you.