PORTRAIT OF BARTHOLOMEW by Bonnie Schell ...none of you should expect me to follow the path worn by the common herd of rhetoricians, that is, to explain my subject matter - myself - by a definition, much less to divide it into parts. -- Erasmus, In praise of folly He runs a coroner’s office over time dissecting those who disagree examining their remarks to him on his private e-mail sites. This one did not understand his victimization by Radical Therapy. This one was warped by being in the fox holes of Vietnam while he the Berkeley Guru heard the voice of his Colonel grandfather who died before Bartholomew was born. Charge the hill to save the ignorant! He had a deferment, though the Federal government had a bounty on his head he thought because his father championed The New Math. He wears a tux to the opera in San Francisco stepping over derelicts sleeping in the streets. He gathers the naïve and marginalized in remedial math classes in city colleges. Never making eye contact, Bartholomew consults only with himself, blowing phrases into his bushy, graying beard. Many try to be his friend, but Bartholomew would rather be alone.