Part 7
Teddy abruptly took out a small, bullet-shaped, ballpoint pen from the side pocket of
his shorts, uncapped it, and began to write. He used his right thigh as a desk, instead
of the chair arm.
Diary for October 28, 1952
Same address and reward as written on October 26 and 27, 1952.
I wrote letters to the following persons after meditation this morning.
Dr. Wokawara
Professor Mandell
Professor Peet
Burgess Hake, Jr.
Roberta Hake
Sanford Hake
Grandma Hake
Mr. Graham
Professor Walton
I could have asked mother where daddy's dog tags are but she would probably say I
don't have to wear them. I know he has them with him because I saw him pack them.
Life is a gift horse in my opinion.
I think it is very tasteless of Professor Walton to criticize my parents. He wants people to
be a certain way.
It will either happen today or February 14, 1955 when I am sixteen. It is ridiculous to
mention even.
After making this last entry, Teddy continued to keep his attention on the page and
his ball-point pen poised, as though there were more to come.
He apparently was unaware that he had a lone interested observer. About fifteen feet
forwardship from the first row of deck chairs, and eighteen or twenty rather sunblinding
feet overhead, a young man was steadily watching him from the Sports Deck
railing. This had been going on for some ten minutes. It was evident that the young
man was now reaching some sort of decision, for he abruptly took his foot down from
the railing. He stood for a moment, still looking in Teddy's direction, then walked away,
out of sight. Not a minute later, though, he turned up, obtrusively vertical, among the
deck-chair ranks. He was about thirty, or younger. He directly started to make his way
down-aisle toward Teddy's chair, casting distracting little shadows over the pages of
people's novels and stepping rather uninhibitedly (considering that his was the only
standing, moving figure in sight) over knitting bags and other personal effects.
Teddy seemed oblivious of the fact that someone was standing at the foot of his chair-
-or, for that matter, casting a shadow over his notebook. A few people in the row or two
behind him, however, were more distractible. They looked up at the young man as,
perhaps, only people in deck chairs can look up at someone. The young man had a kind
of poise about him, though, that looked as though it might hold up indefinitely, with the
very small proviso that he keep at least one hand in one pocket. "Hello, there!" he said
to Teddy.
Teddy looked up. "Hello," he said. He partly closed his notebook, partly let it close by
itself.
"Mind if I sit down a minute?" the young man asked, with what seemed to be
unlimited cordiality. "This anybody's chair?"
"Well, these four chairs belong to my family," Teddy said. "But my parents aren't up
yet."
"Not up? On a day like this," the young man said. He had already lowered himself into
the chair at Teddy's right. The chairs were placed so close together that the arms
Teddy abruptly took out a small, bullet-shaped, ballpoint pen from the side pocket of
his shorts, uncapped it, and began to write. He used his right thigh as a desk, instead
of the chair arm.
Diary for October 28, 1952
Same address and reward as written on October 26 and 27, 1952.
I wrote letters to the following persons after meditation this morning.
Dr. Wokawara
Professor Mandell
Professor Peet
Burgess Hake, Jr.
Roberta Hake
Sanford Hake
Grandma Hake
Mr. Graham
Professor Walton
I could have asked mother where daddy's dog tags are but she would probably say I
don't have to wear them. I know he has them with him because I saw him pack them.
Life is a gift horse in my opinion.
I think it is very tasteless of Professor Walton to criticize my parents. He wants people to
be a certain way.
It will either happen today or February 14, 1955 when I am sixteen. It is ridiculous to
mention even.
After making this last entry, Teddy continued to keep his attention on the page and
his ball-point pen poised, as though there were more to come.
He apparently was unaware that he had a lone interested observer. About fifteen feet
forwardship from the first row of deck chairs, and eighteen or twenty rather sunblinding
feet overhead, a young man was steadily watching him from the Sports Deck
railing. This had been going on for some ten minutes. It was evident that the young
man was now reaching some sort of decision, for he abruptly took his foot down from
the railing. He stood for a moment, still looking in Teddy's direction, then walked away,
out of sight. Not a minute later, though, he turned up, obtrusively vertical, among the
deck-chair ranks. He was about thirty, or younger. He directly started to make his way
down-aisle toward Teddy's chair, casting distracting little shadows over the pages of
people's novels and stepping rather uninhibitedly (considering that his was the only
standing, moving figure in sight) over knitting bags and other personal effects.
Teddy seemed oblivious of the fact that someone was standing at the foot of his chair-
-or, for that matter, casting a shadow over his notebook. A few people in the row or two
behind him, however, were more distractible. They looked up at the young man as,
perhaps, only people in deck chairs can look up at someone. The young man had a kind
of poise about him, though, that looked as though it might hold up indefinitely, with the
very small proviso that he keep at least one hand in one pocket. "Hello, there!" he said
to Teddy.
Teddy looked up. "Hello," he said. He partly closed his notebook, partly let it close by
itself.
"Mind if I sit down a minute?" the young man asked, with what seemed to be
unlimited cordiality. "This anybody's chair?"
"Well, these four chairs belong to my family," Teddy said. "But my parents aren't up
yet."
"Not up? On a day like this," the young man said. He had already lowered himself into
the chair at Teddy's right. The chairs were placed so close together that the arms
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