first prime in both Fermat’s and Mersenne’s sequences … and the only number in both. 331 is even better … it’s the 7th cuban prime, and is both a centered pentagonal and centered hexagonal number.” When I finished this statement, Mike actually took a step back, and away from me … I have trouble reading fear versus awe, but my nerdery had done the trick in either case. Barry gave a nod and orbited out and away from the two of us as we walked down and out onto the dock running out into the water beside the large boathouse.
“Um … Dee and her boyfriend, the Miller boy, Tommy, came down here after dinner, and watched the moon come up while the rest of us, Father and I and my cousins Mindy and Robyn, went out in the Chris Craft to cruise the lake and watch for stars. No, correction, Mother stayed behind, and noodled around on the upper porch of the boathouse.” Mike pointed back behind us, and upwards, to the upstairs of the boathouse, and more specifically to a weather-grey rocker behind a low rail of rustic twig construction. “She worried Tommy was pressuring Dee, and wanted to be nearby for ‘moral support.’ Funny how things turn out, he loved her, beyond all reason, and the way she … was gone, all of a sudden, hurt him, maybe more than us … than me. He kept driving up and put those damn posters up on every signboard, gas station, and police station within 100 miles. He literally died looking for her; went off the damn road driving out to a hospital in Watertown that November in a storm.” He shook his head again, to bring himself back on track, this time looking more like a dog than a polo pony.
“Tell me about what happened when you came back from your boat ride,” I prompted.
“We stopped off at the Deane’s camp, ‘Cayuga,’ for drinks and dessert. We were gone for pretty close to two hours, maybe a bit more. When we got back, we could see Tommy about 200 yards out from the end of this dock, wearing a white swim-cap that caught the moonlight nicely. Father ‘waked’ him with the boat, and then we shadowed him in, as there were other boats motoring up and down the lakeshore that night, and Father didn’t want him to get run over. Tommy pulled himself out of the water and helped to walk the boat in and get her tied up for the night. I waited for him to finish up while Father went up with the others. I noticed Mother asleep with her needlepoint in that chair there, and went in to wake her while Tommy went up to his own cabin for the night. I remember pausing at the top of the boathouse stairs, to see if he was going to stop off at Dee’s cabin, but he didn’t. Things were different then. Not better or worse, just different.” He stopped and looked up at the boathouse and squinted his eyes, maybe trying to see back through the years to that night, wondering if he could have changed things.
“When did you know that she was … missing?” I asked, to get him rolling again, and because it seemed that standing on the dock talking with me had freshened the memories of the events 54.85 years ago.
“It’s a bit embarrassing and makes us all sound stupid, and rather like one of those English farces, where people are going in and out of different doors, just missing each other, and jumping to the wrong conclusions about the state of affairs; although of course, it wasn’t funny, just sad.” He drifted away again, and I was about to cough or something when he started up on his own.
“She wasn’t at breakfast, but we assumed that she had gone fishing with Da, my father. Then, a number of us, Tommy and myself included, went on a canoe trip, to Middle Saranac, I think, while others went to another camp, ‘Three Pines’ I believe, to play in a tennis round-robin. In this way, we got through most of the day, everyone thinking that she must be with one of the others. It wasn’t until five, when we always came together for cocktails and to talk about the events of the day, that it came out
“Um … Dee and her boyfriend, the Miller boy, Tommy, came down here after dinner, and watched the moon come up while the rest of us, Father and I and my cousins Mindy and Robyn, went out in the Chris Craft to cruise the lake and watch for stars. No, correction, Mother stayed behind, and noodled around on the upper porch of the boathouse.” Mike pointed back behind us, and upwards, to the upstairs of the boathouse, and more specifically to a weather-grey rocker behind a low rail of rustic twig construction. “She worried Tommy was pressuring Dee, and wanted to be nearby for ‘moral support.’ Funny how things turn out, he loved her, beyond all reason, and the way she … was gone, all of a sudden, hurt him, maybe more than us … than me. He kept driving up and put those damn posters up on every signboard, gas station, and police station within 100 miles. He literally died looking for her; went off the damn road driving out to a hospital in Watertown that November in a storm.” He shook his head again, to bring himself back on track, this time looking more like a dog than a polo pony.
“Tell me about what happened when you came back from your boat ride,” I prompted.
“We stopped off at the Deane’s camp, ‘Cayuga,’ for drinks and dessert. We were gone for pretty close to two hours, maybe a bit more. When we got back, we could see Tommy about 200 yards out from the end of this dock, wearing a white swim-cap that caught the moonlight nicely. Father ‘waked’ him with the boat, and then we shadowed him in, as there were other boats motoring up and down the lakeshore that night, and Father didn’t want him to get run over. Tommy pulled himself out of the water and helped to walk the boat in and get her tied up for the night. I waited for him to finish up while Father went up with the others. I noticed Mother asleep with her needlepoint in that chair there, and went in to wake her while Tommy went up to his own cabin for the night. I remember pausing at the top of the boathouse stairs, to see if he was going to stop off at Dee’s cabin, but he didn’t. Things were different then. Not better or worse, just different.” He stopped and looked up at the boathouse and squinted his eyes, maybe trying to see back through the years to that night, wondering if he could have changed things.
“When did you know that she was … missing?” I asked, to get him rolling again, and because it seemed that standing on the dock talking with me had freshened the memories of the events 54.85 years ago.
“It’s a bit embarrassing and makes us all sound stupid, and rather like one of those English farces, where people are going in and out of different doors, just missing each other, and jumping to the wrong conclusions about the state of affairs; although of course, it wasn’t funny, just sad.” He drifted away again, and I was about to cough or something when he started up on his own.
“She wasn’t at breakfast, but we assumed that she had gone fishing with Da, my father. Then, a number of us, Tommy and myself included, went on a canoe trip, to Middle Saranac, I think, while others went to another camp, ‘Three Pines’ I believe, to play in a tennis round-robin. In this way, we got through most of the day, everyone thinking that she must be with one of the others. It wasn’t until five, when we always came together for cocktails and to talk about the events of the day, that it came out
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