Pinning down what is special about Ranko is a welcome challenge. I have known him since childhood, but I can remember very little about him before puberty. In fact, most of what I know about his formative years comes from others—his parents and their friends. As far as I know, this is true of Ranko, too. He was considered exceptionally gifted in painting, and he received several international awards for his work before he turned ten. Many of his bright oil paintings can still be found in the home of his parents in Belgrade. Even a cursory review of this collection suggests that Ranko remained a child at heart somewhat longer than his peers. But his painting began to pale and stiffen with puberty, as is often the case with children endowed with special talents. Although he sometimes draws and paints even today, all the signs of a child prodigy are long gone. I know that Ranko would agree with this verdict of mine, although it would perhaps hurt him a little.

Ranko’s mother seems to have played a key rôle in his early development. She gradually inculcated in him a desire to do something special together with a belief that he was indeed capable of doing something special. He occasionally jests about his mother’s gentle but persistent prodding to excel by saying that she unfortunately failed to tell him where to focus his energies. Ranko has already tried his hand at many different things, but nothing seems to hold his attention for too long. After at most five or six years of very hard work, as well as many signs of worldly success, he abandons everything he has accomplished and starts anew. More important, Ranko tends to quit precisely at the moment when his professed goal is already in sight. The switch is almost instantaneous and he never looks back. With boundless energy and determination he embarks on his new crusade until the next switch. This is a pattern that has become unmistakable. Some of his friends envy him for this quality, for he always appears to enjoy his life to the full.

Although he is an exceptional man, I am confident in my judgment that Ranko is not more than that—exceptional. He is very bright, but so are many people he is surrounded by. He is very knowledgeable, but there are few people around him who are not knowledgeable about something. In other words, he does not have any truly special gift, at least in the usual sense of that word. People are often impressed but rarely awed by him. When I try to pin down that something that I believe makes him exceptional, I find it very elusive, but when I manage to formulate a few sentences on this matter, I find my own words inappropriately naïve and even childish. Anyhow, perhaps the most important thing that makes Ranko special today is his spiritual life. His collection of notes about his world and himself is a repository of his attempts to come to grips with his spiritual needs. There is much passion there. When I leaf through his yearbooks, which he keeps sending to me even though I never say a word about them to him, I cannot but feel my heart go out to him. I cannot but feel that Ranko is special to me, and potentially to others, because of his unflinching desire to discover who he is and who he ought to become. His passion to know himself ultimately illuminates his entire world. I must say that this world of his has meant a great deal to me, too.