Not all mistakes are bad.
That was something I learned from a documentary I watched years ago, which introduced me to two people who struck me as highly likeable.
They were Japanese mathematicians who started their careers in the years after World War II, not a good time for anyone Japanese to be looking for recognition on the world stage. Memories of all that bloodletting were simply too fresh. These two, though, did some maths that was so striking that whatever the reputation of their country, they couldn’t help but win an enviable one for themselves.
The one interviewed for the documentary was Goro Shimura. He was by then a highly respected mathematician working in the intellectual powerhouse that is the Instituted of Advanced Studies at Princeton University in the States (the place once graced by no less a person than Albert Einstein). He was talking about his friend and collaborator in maths, Yutaka Taniyama. You could feel his grief in talking about Taniyama who committed suicide in 1958, something which clearly still saddened Shimura several decades on.
In the interview, what he said of his him was curiously revealing, touching and, I’d say, uplifting:
Taniyama was not a very careful person as a mathematician. He made a lot of mistakes, but he made mistakes in a good direction. So eventually he got right answers, and I tried to imitate him but I found out, it is very difficult to make good mistakes.
Well, I agree that it isn’t easy to make good mistakes. Which is why I want to pay tribute to a good friend of ours, Oana. She regularly comes for walks with us along the sea or in the hills around here in the Valencian community in Spain. It’s good, however, to do other things with friends than just go on walks with them, and Danielle invited her, for a change, to join us in the joint celebration of her birthday (Danielle’s) that neatly falls on the same day as our grandson Elliott’s. He was turning three, but Danielle a little more.
The latest in our series of walks was a couple of weeks before the birthday, and Oana had been on it with us (it took us along the remains of an extraordinary Roman aqueduct cut through solid rock and, at one point, leaping a gorge on the back of a bridge – well worth the visit). As we parted company at the end of the day, Oana said, ‘see you next week, then’.
That worried me, so in the car home I asked Danielle what she thought.
‘Oana has got the date of the birthday right, hasn’t she? I mean, she said “see you next week” though it’s not till the week after.’
‘Oh, yes, she has the date,’ Danielle reassured me, ‘I sent her all the details.’
The following Saturday, we were invited to the house of another friend, Celia, for a paella. Home-made, and home-made is always the best. It was excellent.
We were chatting over a few drinks before lunch when my phone rang. It was Oana. I answered in some trepidation, fully justified as it turned out.
‘I’m at the gate,’ she told me, ‘I rang the bell and I can hear the dogs, but maybe you didn’t hear it.’
‘At our house?’ I asked.
‘Yes. Just waiting for you to let me in.’
An error had been made. One worthy of a Taniyama. But fortunately it turned out to be just as inspired as one of his.
‘Tell her to come here,’ said Celia.
‘Oh, no, I can’t do that,’ Oana replied, when I’d passed that on to her.
‘Of course you can,’ I assured her, ‘these are great people, you’ll enjoy meeting them, they’ll enjoy meeting you, and we’ll all have a better time for your being here.’
It took a couple more exchanges to persuade her but, eventually, she let me talk her into coming over.
And it was as I’d said. She enjoyed herself and everybody else enjoyed meeting her. The food was excellent and the conversation joyful.
What more could one want?
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| Oana enjoying the birthday(s), with Danielle |
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| Elliott successfully turning three |
