Seven Times Seven

It's not nice to play favorites, but I'll admit: I 've always had a favorite multiplication table. Hands down, it's seven.

Twos, fours, fives and tens — too easy. Three is melodic ("Three, six, nine, the goose drank wine...") but lacking in substance. Six and eight are uninteresting. And nine has always given me trouble.

So that leaves seven. What is it about seven times seven that soothes and satisfies, that clicks? Maybe it's the spiritual aspect, the way the number shows up in fairy tales and fables and the Bible. Seven years, seven leagues, seven sacraments.

Or maybe the symmetry, like the precise paths of a formal garden. Making order out of chaos. Seven is odd but beautiful. Prime and primal.

But all of this doesn't explain a prejudice that developed in, what, third grade? For some reason I took to sevens and they took to me. And that's the way it is.


I began this post to write about the movie "56 Up," but I'll save that for another day.