MATTER OVER MIND

I'm doing a a bit of self-acclamation this morning. 'Matter Over Mind' is my 700th story written in this series, one day at a time. While I may have bored you, annoyed, dismayed, amused you, what keeps coming out of my mind amazes even me. And while I'm grand-standing, I add, becoming 85 on 12/24, I am quite sure you agree that I am Wonderful LOL !

‘Do it, do it! Do something, you sloth!. I am quite good at lecturing myself, knowing I’m a blazing coward who will probably end up in a glass coffin with people paying 50 cents each to look a real nitwit. All the world spins around me and I sit on my ass trying to hear the whirr it makes.

Max, my twin brother, cornered all the guts available in the Tyson family. While I sit here contemplating my navel, he is bungee jumping in Maine. I’m in Maine, too, sitting at a wooden table. The bench is so weather worn it has splinters. Rough waves pound the coast but I watch for the waitress to bring me 2 super duper giant lobster claws with gallons of melted butter. A little titter rises unannounced in my throat. Letting all this butter send my cholesterol numbers off the chart is dangerous and I am satisfied for a while that I have had the courage to go at least this far, take a chance on death in my own dumb way.

As the last big white juicy lobster lump slides down inside of me, Max appears, muscles bulging, wind-blown, without a scratch or bruise I can see. He sits beside me, calls the waitress, asks for a lobster salad, easy on the mayo and a large Evian. ‘You should have come, watched at least. What a thrill! I almost burst with excitement falling 300 feet, pretty damn close to the cliffs, bouncing up, dropping, bouncing up, until finally, I slowed down and was reeled in safely. It was awesome.’Just listening made me queasy.

‘Max,’ I said, ‘You know I love having you as my twin brother, don’t you? Well, I wish you would stop regaling me with your daring-do. Sooner or later our twinship is going to be a onesome. You are going to be crushed, ridden over, blown up or swallowed by a python.’ His attention is elsewhere. He chews on the hard heel of a braided bread. Down to the last few crumbs, he puts them on the palm of his hand and terns swoop down on his arms, his head. I grab the over-sized menu to chase them away. ‘Come on, Max,’ I beg. ‘Those things carry ticks. They crap on everything. Let’s go.’ We walk down the broken sea-shell path to my car. The keys are in my hand. Max grabs them and jumps in. No sense arguing. I become the passenger and shrink into myself.

‘Brother Boy. Tomorrow you are going fishing with me. Don’t say no. If you snag a tarp, I’ll help you pull it in. Turn around, look, look at the sea. Isn’t it gorgeous?’ ‘Yes, it is but it is also deep.’ He gets me mad and calls me ‘Baby Poop.’ I can flare up but know how to calm myself. This time I am out of control. ‘You want to go fishing, go. I’m going to the artists’ colony in Brisbane, try to do a quick water color, maybe put your fishing boat in the scene. I’ll drop you at the pier and be back for you when?’ ‘When I get there, Bro.’

My painting is horrible. I crush it and drop it in a trash barrel. Daylight is disappearing. By 7 I am worried. The Clifford Max was on is in port but Max isn’t. I hear only the waves lapping at the pylons. Lanterns shed little light on the pier. At 8 I call the police who check the passenger list of the Clifford and tell me Max was not on it. I drive as fast as I can on this zig zagged road, reach our cabin and almost have a heart attack before I get the door open. Max is sitting on the faded over-stuffed wing chair, a Heinekin on a small round table easily in his reach. He jumps up, crazed, almost frothing at the mouth. He grabs me, hugs me tight. ‘Baby, I didn’t go fishing. I goofed around and then went up to watch you paint. You weren’t there. Nobody knew you. Your car was gone, so I hitched a ride here to wait.’

I couldn’t help it. Max did care about me. I hugged him back, joined him in a beer and we made plans for a hike up to the top of Rocky Point in the morning. My brother only said, ‘Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.’