In 1889, aftera series ofcrack-ups (in reactiontoTheo's marriage or perhaps just too muchabsinthe?), hespentayear in theasylumatsaint-remy-de-provence.
However, when twenty-three-year-old Sydney Provence, a University of Iowa physics grad student, picked me up in her Toyota Corolla at the airport in Cedar Rapids the first stop on my surfing odyssey I immediately confessed my misdeed.