"There, try living your life with that on," he said, and abruptly left. Jeremy ran across the room and stared at himself in the mirror, filled with horror. Through the intricate, beautifully designed lattice-work and steel curley-cues of the mask he could see his head. His mouth was perfectly accessible for eating and he was not handicapped by the steel cage, save for the spectacle it made of him.

Subsequent visits to doctors, blacksmiths and metallurgists revealed only that no one could devise a way of removing the thing, at least without great damage to Jeremy. It soon became apparent that Jeremy was condemned to be the Boy in the Steel Cage.

Further consultations revealed that no one had any idea who the black clad figure had been or where it had come from, although several people had their pet theories. Some even said it was a conscious choice and he had done it to himself on purpose. No one really knew why this bizarre fate had befallen Jeremy. He had always just been a nice kid. Nevertheless, he had now been condemned by powers unknown to live out his life with a beautifully wrought, gleaming steel cage on his head.

At first Jeremy spent a lot of time banging his head (or the cage, actually) on walls and the floor in frequent rages. In fact, he had to be restrained at times to prevent him from doing himself harm. After the anger had subsided he shut himself away and refused to come out of his room. He demanded that his meals and clean laundry be left outside his closed door. Alone in his room, isolated and depressed, he withdrew into himself. Concerned for his welfare, and on the advice of the family physician, Jeremy's parents finally had him forcibly hospitalized, which made him even angrier, of course. After a while, with the aid of good medication and kindly treatment, he began to improve his attitude. His therapist, who was a wise and compassionate woman one day said to him, "Have you ever looked closely at the cage on your head? Have you ever noticed what a truly exquisite work of art it is? If it weren't on your head, locked up in here with the rest of you, it would be recognized as a priceless masterpiece and be on display in some museum. Jeremy, dear, the cage is yours.

No one else in the world has one of those. It is unique and it makes you as beautiful as it is."

"So?" he replied, grumpily.

"So- instead of being ashamed of it, just because it makes you different, instead of cursing your fate and hiding from it you might consider your beautiful cage a blessing. It makes you a one-of-a-kind person and a thing of great beauty. Do you think you could learn to be proud of it and find the joy of sharing it with others?"

This outlandish idea had not occurred to Jeremy. We might say he had been having a little difficulty making the paradigm shift. He finally stopped raging against his fate long enough to turn the thing upside down and see it differently. (Good therapists have that effect.)

Jeremy seized upon this lovely idea. He built upon it and grew up to be an artist, a sculptor who created exquisite works in metal filigree, inspired by the divine gift he wore upon his head.

We had two of his delicately wrought sculptures in the bunkhouse at the Lazy G Ranch when I was there. Lovely stuff it was.