When I was a kid, I slept in my grandparents’ bedroom. First in a crib, then on a little couch in the corner of their room. My grandfather taught me math every night before I fell asleep. He drilled me on addition, subtraction, then multiplication. He used large numbers; and I always got the right answer. It was easy for me. Numbers formed a complex landscape that I could fly over. In the darkness, my grandfather would rattle out a problem — 337 + 781, for example — and I would fly over the beautiful hills and valleys until the answer would be right there. I loved that game. I then I would try to fall asleep really fast because my grandfather snored so loudly that if I didn’t I would never be able to due to the horrific noise. We played that game for years, until I was displaced from my grandparents’ room by my younger sister. I am currently reading a popular book on neurology, “The Man Who Tasted Words: A Neurologist Explores the Strange and Startling World of Our Senses” by Dr. Guy Leschziner. It explores many human variations in sensory perception either from birth or as…
