Upper Kennebec Valley High School - Boreas Yearbook (Bingham, ME)

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BOREAS 15 Yes, he was really just becoming famous, and no one knows what great compositions he might have written in these thirteen years! You were quite young when your uncle became ill, then? Only ten, but Uncle Mark had a personality that impressed even the smallest children in the family. I take it he never married. No, he has always lived alone, his music was his love, I guess. Your family hasn't been much help to me: they don't seem to have any idea what caused his illness. They said he was proud of his music, but there must have been some great shock, or disappointment-haven't you some i- dea what caused it? He had eyed her carefully, feeling more like a lawyer than a man of his own profession, but she had not re- sented his questioningg she seemed only anxious to help him cure her uncle. It must seem strange to you that they have waited thirteen years before trying a psychologist to help him, but that was because my Uncle Oscar held no faith in your profession , she had smiled and gone on. I can tell you everything that happened the last night I saw Uncle Mark before his ill- ness. Sawyer leaned forward eagerly. Then somethin' out-of-the-way did happen! Well yes, although it seems a trif- le, even now, He had just completed a 'masterpiece', one he had worked on for over a year. He had gathered the whole family, along with a friend of his, a music critic, to hear it. I remem- ber it well, it was a stormy night and we hadn't wished to come out here. We were in the study and he played on his grand piano. What was the matter? It was the piece, she answered oddly. It was like none of the rest of his great works. It went on and on until I was quite restless, and the old- er company ready to leave. When he finished, he turned around to us, and he read in our faces the answer to his unasked question. The excited fiush drained from his face, he sat there only for a second, then he rose and left the room without speaking, and it was after that he became ill. He has never played, not one, since then. How simple, Sawyer had remark- ed. How very strange that such a great man could 'be affected by one small failure. We tried every way, you know, to interest him in his music after he got well, the niece went on, at first we believed him to be angry, but he con- tinued not to recognize us. He has lived on here in his own home, but he is like a stranger in it. Here Sawyer's thoughts ended as he suddenly became aware that the little man was leaning forward in his chair, staring into the darkness. The fireplace held only a red glow, and the ticking clock made a noise that shattered the silence. The young doc- tor was also aware of a low rumble of thunder and the sound of light rain against the windows. He started to rise and to turn on a light when a sudden tiash of lightning showed the chair beside the fireplace empty. In the darkness that followed, Sawyer strain- ed his eyes, and listened intently for some movement near him. A loud

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14 ' BOREAS and scold him or he would have teased her so much that she'd have given in to him and let him take the steak off. Leave that on there, young man , she commanded, and if you come home with another one of those black eyes right away, I'll have to speak to your teacher about you. With these final words, 'Mike' had rolled over and gone to sleep. 'Mike' had grown up fast. It had been hard to believe it when he had graduated from high school, He was a big boy then, larger than his dad. He had been a class officer nearly all the way through school, he was liked by all his comrades, he was good in his studies, and he was one of the best in the field of sports. His father remem- bered him as a quarterback on the school football squad. He was as good a player as was to be found anywhere around. After graduation, 'Mike' had helped his father on the farm with the intention of later going to the State University. He was a husky lad and two years ago he had been called for the army. He wanted to go. Mr. Du- plesea had not tried to keep him on the farm. The sound of the clock striking six reminded Mrs. Duplesea that it was nearly time for supper. Thomas, I wish you'd go down to the well and get a pail of water , she said to her husband. I'll have supper ready in a jiffyf' With that, she went into the kitchen and busied herself with the task of preparing supper. Later when they were seated at the table, Mrs. Duplesea repeated, I just can't believe it's true about 'Mike'. She paused, then went on, It certain- ly is wonderful, though. Yes , replied her husband, it cer- tainly is wonderful that anything like that could happen to our son. To think that he's been promoted to private first class is almost unbelievable! G. Croteau '46 IF 1 4' 42 THE LOST GENIUS Dr. Douglas Sawyer did not find the silence that pervaded the huge, dark- ened study so monotonous as many a guest surely would have done. He sat observing the small, child-like figure which occupied an equally small, straight rocking chair near the fire- place. The light from the dying fire showed the blank, thoughtless stare on the face of the unhappy little man. How typical his expression is , thought the young doctor. I have seen exactly the same helpless look with so many similar cases of amnes- ia, and yet I get nowhere with my study of him. The family will soon doubt that they have hired a trained psychologist, and I shall doubt it my- self. The doctor went on pondering thus, going over all the facts he knew con- cerning his host, who continued to stare indifferently to the familiar sur- roundings of his study. With wrinkled brow, Sawyer went over again in his mind the conversa- tion he had had that afternoon with Jean Anderson, the young niece of his patient. By looking at Uncle Mark now, you can't imagine him as he was at the height of' his career. He was such a quick, alert little man, and so young for his age! At the height of his career? the had inquired.

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16 BOREAS clash of thunder was followed by a brilliant Hash that revealed nothing of Markus Anderson. The rain drove against the window, and young Doc- tor Sawyer, rising from his chair, wished that the family had seen best to have someone else living with their lost relative other than the faithful Albert and the cook, who were both in the servants' quarters. True, he was quite harmless, but it would have been a bit more pleasant under the circ-umstances, not to be alone with this queer lost genius. The lightning no longer helped him as he groped a- cross to the light switch, it had lost its brightness, and came faintly and at long intervals. He was thankful that the storm was breaking so soon. He slid his hands along the smooth sur- face of the wall, feeling for the switch. A sound filled the room, that was not thunder, and he Spun around to face the piano, Dimly he made out the form leaning over the keys. The music filled the room and drowned out the noise of the wind and rain outside, it was a series of chords each one a deaf- ening sound. Sawyer found the switch, and the room was Hooded with light. The player did not notice the light. Sawyer thought quicklyg here was his chance. The storm had brought back a little of the memory. If only he could complete the picture! He was startled as Albert appeared suddenly in the doorway, staring in amazement to- ward the man at the piano. It's the piece, he murmured to the young doctor. Yes, I thought so, Sawyer whis- pered. You must remember every- thing that goes with that piece. Every- thing! Who came to hear it that night? Albert, bewildered, remained silent. Quickly, urged Sawyer. All the family? And the friend, is he living? The critic, I mean. Come Albert, think fast! Finally Albert left to call those who were available and near at hand, as he had done thirteen years ago. Sawyer turned his attention to An- derson, who played on and ong and as he listened, he knew it to be the com- position that had failed. There was no theme or tune, but a series of notes that went on endlessly. The doctor watched his patient carefully. He showed no signs of fatigue. Sawyer crossed the room to see the musician's face. It had the same blank expres- sion as before. His eyes did not show interest. The young doctor felt that his scheme was hopeless. He went back to the door and called ffoftly to Albert who had finished tele- phoning in the hall. He talked with him in the doorway, together they ar- ranged the room as Albert remember- cd it had been thirteen years ago. The young doctor appealed to the family to help him, as they hurriedly gathered in the study. The playing ceased. They heard the clock on the mantle ticking, then ap- plause filled the room. Slowly Markus Anderson turned, and he looked be- wildered. Oscar Anderson arose, and all eyes watched him as he approached his brother. Markus, that was a masterpiece! he boomed. The musician's eyes grew bright at the familiar voice, and the longed for praise. He smiled. But when he turned