Years after visiting Ireland, many memories and impressions remain. Among them, the golf courses, astonishing in their beauty; village taverns, rollicking with laughter and music; lush gardens, flourishing under a climate made in heaven; ancient towns, arrested in time, economically deprived and systemically dingy. But, most of all, there is the memory of Thomas. He was 13, a smidgen over five feet, sandy haired, blue-eyed and materially poor, working as a caddy on a windswept afternoon on the rugged terrain of County Kerry. By American standards, young Thomas was stuck at the edge of poverty. Essentially, his prospects were bleak. Unworldly and unprivileged, he surely would be encouraged to follow in the timeless footsteps of his class in a country still chained to a caste system. By American standards, however, this ragged boy had riches our affluent society does not own and cannot buy. Because, you see, still in the eighth grade, Thomas was a scholar of the English language. In his lilting Irish brogue, his words flowed like sparkling water over stones, pure, correct, grammatical, even literary in their diversity. This little, scruffy child and likely his truck-driver father had a far better grasp and appreciation for language than our college graduates and talking heads on television who ostensibly earn their livings communicating. The “dumbing down” of America became starkly real in Ireland, where those who have no wealth are educated in a language they honor and love. Meanwhile, in America, more people attend college now than ever before and more money per capita is spent on education from kindergarten through high school. Television and computers have promised unprecedented learning and understanding but technology only seems to assure the speedier transmission of illiteracy. While teachers strike for more money, their students can’t write simple sentences, don’t know the difference between “lie” and “lay,” don’t have a clue about “subjects” and “objects” and can only sum up a thought by saying “you know” or “like.” Yes, there are exceptions; but the horror is we’re into the second and third generation of decline. When parents have no reverence for their traditions, when their books are merely decorative accessories like candlesticks and ceramic birds, and when athletes, actors and talk-show hosts are the demigods they most admire, who can expect their children to recapture or respect the virtue and value of the English language? On a windswept bluff in late August, a stocky Irish lad in shabby clothing was eloquent proof that real wealth has nothing to do with nearly everything that now dominates our priorities.