DECEMBER 23, 2023 – During the course of my 24-hour stay at the Red Cabin, a dense fog filled the surrounding woods. When I hiked along the lakeshore path, I seemed to be walking along the border of infinity: beyond about 50 feet from shore, the lake itself was completely missing from view.
Back in the “tree garden,” I felt as if I’d been transported to some distant, magical place. A few meters from where I walked, trees faded quickly into the all-encompassing December shroud. I stopped to observe my surroundings and experience the absolute quietude that had descended over the land. At one place, an opening among the trees appeared as a gateway to a place “beyond infinity.” I stopped to snap a photo—and ponder with amusement, Buzz Lightyear’s famous rallying cry in the movie, Toy Story, “To infinity and beyond!” What could possibly lie beyond infinity?
As I continued on my way, I thought more about this notion of infinity and how we can conceptualize it symbolically but we can never actually experience it—and live to tell about it. One thought led to another, and soon I recalled the long telephone conversation I’d enjoyed last Thursday with a good friend and college classmate, John Cross.
In a cross-generational tradition, John—a son of Brunswick, Maine—has maintained close ties with the college. So close, he works there—as Secretary of Development and College Relations in the Office of Stewardship. A PhD in anthropological archeology, John is therefore—or more likely, coincidentally, given his native proclivities—at the high end of the “E.Q” spectrum. It’s no surprise that he’s always been held in high regard by those who know him.
Given his role at the college, John has his pulse on class and broader alumni news. On Thursday, he mentioned a couple of classmates who’d entered infinity over the past year. One of them I’d known quite well—Dave Totman, the “Gentle Giant.” If Dave wasn’t in the same league of economics scholarship as our classmate Lawrence Lindsay[1] or wasn’t a member of the same club of financial wizardry as Stanley Druckenmiller[2] (the class ahead of us), no one could touch Dave when it came to betting on winners at the local horse-trotting track.
I’ll never forget the one time I saw Dave in the library: late one evening after his latest trip to the track. Accustomed to winning, on that particular occasion he’d hit the jack-pot and was eager to inform his “inner circle” of fellow bettors who often joined him—but sadly for them, hadn’t on that lucky night. I happened to be standing nearby and was curious what the commotion was about. With a huge smile, Dave looked around, then removed from his pocket an enormous roll of C-notes. I was duly impressed—and not a little envious, as I returned to my study carrel to finish readings for the next day of classes.
Given his immense size—he must’ve stood at 6’ 5”, well-proportioned weight—and coordination, Dave was a credit to the Polar Bear franchise (such as it was) on the gridiron. But he never wore his jockstrap on the outside. He was always mild mannered, gracious toward his peers, good for conversation, and quick to laugh—especially at weekend frat parties. Whenever I encountered him walking across campus, he’d stop to chat.
When I ran for class president at the end of our junior year, I talked Dave into running for vice president. With a reliable sense of humor, he didn’t require much arm-twisting. We won, and thereafter I joked that “I looked up to my vice president.” He was kind enough never to turn the joke around on me.
Dave didn’t win a Nobel Prize in chemistry, become a billionaire, or publish 27 novels in eleventeen languages, but before his passage to infinity, he achieved a bit of immortality (wink-wink) when I—(self)-publisher of one novel—worked him by reference into a scene. The names were changed—it was a work of “fiction,” after all—but the details were exactly as Dave had recounted them to me. (Cont.)
Subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.
© 2023 by Eric Nilsson
[1] Board member of Federal Reserve Board; Director of National Economic Council (2001-2002); economic advisor to George H. W. Bush and George W. Bush.
[2] Billionaire investor; former lead manager of Quantum Fund (George Soros).
2 Comments
Hey Eric, how is your tree farm faring? I have always been impressed with your efforts to plant thousands of white pines–and sad when most were damaged or destroyed last winter. I hope most of them came back, even if misshapen or stunted. The important thing, I suppose, is for them to live and produce the next generation of white pines up there. But this drought has me discouraged. I have been watering our trees, including some baby oaks, once a week, just to help them survive. But what about the thousands of trees in the forests, and on public lands (like along the boulevards)? I pray that the drought breaks soon, and the trees all survive. If we really get the rain predicted in the next day or two, that will help.
Ginny, Friday-into-Saturday, I checked on the “tree garden.” With some notable exceptions, the saplings have staged a miraculous comeback. More later . . .