When I was in 10th grade I became a day student at a small, local boarding school, switching from public school to private. My first few days were terrifying. That's pretty funny in retrospect because it was a very laid back place. But at the time I thought what most 15 year olds think: I'll never make a friend, everyone already knows each other - so on and so forth. One of the first people to reach out and help me feel welcome was Jeremy Quinn. A fellow day student from another small town near Lake Placid, he was the greatest. Friendly, sarcastic, funny - we spent hours talking at school and ran up astronomical phone bills when at home. My mom occasionally ran into his dad - usually on the steps of the post office - and they would perennially complain how the only way they were going to pay for all of this was to buy stock in the phone company, because certainly Jeremy and I must be driving profits up. I still remember lying on the washer and dryer in the kitchen of our old house, ear permanently attached to the large black wall phone. We talked about everything on the Earth, and he would frequently interrupt me to talk to his favored Siamese cats. I want to say Aristotle and Socrates, but I'm getting old - I'm not sure if I remember correctly.
Unfortunately, we lost touch as we grew up; I moved to Texas and Jeremy stayed put, near his mom and 7 siblings. Last week he disappeared. From what they've found so far, he's gone into thin air. I can't imagine what his family feels right now, what his small community is going through. Because I wasn't the only one Jeremy was there for - not by a long shot. He was around for everyone - someone you could count on, someone who would always help you out.
All I can do from 2,000 miles away is pray. A long long time ago Jeremy helped rescue me from fear and loneliness. I pray to God someone will help rescue him now from something a lot worse.
God be with you, my dear, dear friend.