One day when I was a graduate student at Harvard, I was given a sheet of paper, just a single sheet. On this page were examples of common grammatical mistakes that we were to avoid at all costs. There was a short paragraph about the difference between their, there, and they’re. It was that kind of a handout.
The recipients were all given a final instruction at the bottom of the page. We were told, in no uncertain terms, to never, ever use a qualifier with the word “unique.” Unique meant unique, one of a kind. Something could not, by definition, be very unique or pretty unique. The thing being discussed was either unique, or it was not. If it was not unique, it might be rare or unusual, but there is no such thing as being really unique.
I always take note whenever I hear the word unique being misused, and believe me, it is almost always used with a qualifier. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I heard someone, anyone, use the word correctly. This doesn’t upset me at all, I have learned to go with the flow. The word “unique” has simply evolved along with the English language. No worries.
So, there you have it. That is the introduction to my long time friend Stu. I have known Stu for over 40 years, and I will say that in my experience, Stu was unique. He was one of a kind. I have never met anyone like him, and I don’t expect I ever will.
If you noticed the change in word tense, you know that Stu passed away a few weeks ago. He was having some health issues, but his death was unexpected. He thought he had years. So did I.
It is not possible to summarize a life with a few stories, but I have little choice. I am going to tell a couple tales about Stu, my long-haired, bearded, kindhearted, substitute teacher, secret multimillionaire, poker playing, math-loving friend. And that is just the beginning of the list.
Stu was substitute teaching when the schools were all shut down due to Covid-19. He subbed because he needed to keep busy, he certainly didn’t need the money. The following happened one day when he was subbing at a rural elementary school not far from his home.
Stu was eating lunch next to a full-time teacher when he noticed a boy eating by himself. Stu asked the teacher what they should do about it. The teacher, unbelievably, told Stu that he wasn’t going to do a damn thing about it. Stu, astonished by the reaction of the teacher, asked a couple of this boy’s classmates what they thought they should do. They immediately asked the boy to join them. He declined, but the point is Stu saw something he didn’t like and tried to fix it.
As Stu and I talked about this incident, we both expressed our disappointment in the teacher who refused to address the problem of the solitary boy eating lunch. We both agreed that this teacher, apparently teaching for unknown reasons, had no idea what was in his job description. Stu was bothered by this person’s lack of caring. He was genuinely disturbed by this incident. That is the kind of man Stu was.
Stu was about to make his acting debut, he was going to be in a short film I am making. I offered him the role of a drunken, broken down mathematician. After immediately accusing me of typecasting, he accepted the offer. I was looking forward to shooting his scenes. He was going to be great.
Anyone who knew Stu knew he loved playing poker. It was one of his main passions. I was always trying to get him to read the essays I am constantly writing. As many of you know, lots of them are mathematical in nature, and they are right up Stu’s alley. He never seemed to get around to reading them, though, because he was sitting in front of his computer playing poker. I wrote one particular essay that I knew he would like.
There is a special mathematical problem known as 10,958. More specifically, it is 10,958 Ascending. I tried for weeks to get Stu to look at the essay I wrote about it. I told him that mathematical immortality awaits the person who was clever enough to solve it. Finally, one day, I checked my email, and there was a message from Stu. All it said was, “Wow, that is interesting.” Stu had found a worthy problem. Like all worthy mathematical problems, the more he fought with it, the more it fought back.
A few days after that initial email, Stu wrote to me and said he was considering giving up poker to spend more time wrestling with 10,958 Ascending. After that, I sent him multiple emails a day, asking him if he had solved it. The answer was always “Not yet.”
Me: You solve it?
Stu: Not yet.
5 minutes later…
Me: How about now?
Stu: Not yet.
5 minutes later…
Me: Any progress?
Stu: Not yet.
I told him how disappointed in him I was, I reminded him how simple the problem appears to be. I asked him what was wrong with him. Of course, we both had a strong suspicion that the problem was unsolvable. Professional mathematicians the world over have tackled this problem and given up in frustration. That said, Stu promised me a solution. He was getting his computer coding skills back up to speed as he conjured up alternate ways to attack this nasty little problem.
There aren’t a lot of people who can make me smile just by walking through a door. Stu was one of them. I am severely disappointed that he was taken before his time. We had a lot of work to do. The future was bright. I already miss him.
Postscript
For those of you interested in 10,958 Ascending, check out my post from 10/21/2019. The post is entitled, you guessed it, 10,958. I think you might like it. After all, Stu did.
