Goines On: Talk to your brain

Click image for more vignettes

As Goines drove himself and Mrs. Goines toward their community’s exit on Halloween afternoon, he stopped to talk with the neighbor who had invited them for beef sliders in her family’s garage that evening, the family’s last evening there, because they had just moved all of their belongings to a smaller house near the middle of town. She sounded hoarse, but said it was only because of allergies and the dust of emptying the house. But she said the beef sliders were off. “They’re forecasting 60 mile-an-hour winds tonight. We’d better not.” The Goineses said they understood, and certainly not, no party, no problem.
    Driving along the freeway now to carry out their errands, a sense of peace and safety settled around Goines so profound it neutralized any thought of 60-mph winds. He felt okay, all right, and everything was okay, all right, come what may. It was as though his brain were talking to him, assuring him, telling him it was taking care of him. He drove on, letting the feeling wash over him, bathe him, comfort him.
    And he re-imagined a striking experience at the fitness center a couple of mornings earlier. After clocking in there, he had been greeted by a question from another man, who looked to be experiencing some anxiety: “Are you from around here?”
    Goines asked what he meant – born in North Carolina?
    “No, no. Just, do you live around here?”
    Goines told him he did, yes, less than a mile away.
    “Do you know where I can rent a trailer?”
    “You mean, like a U-Haul trailer?”
    “Yeah. I know there’s one in Greensboro, but I don’t want to drive that far. Mayflower’s already packed to move us to Florida, but I need a trailer too.”
    “So, you’re moving from here?”
    “Yeah, and after twenty years, my wife has a lot of dishes and stuff she wants to take with us, which is why I need a trailer.”
    “I’m sure there’s a rental place nearby. Just keep asking in here. Someone will know.”
    Goines started to select a weight machine to do his first 15 reps, but the first thing he did after sitting down was to dig out his iPhone and search on “u-haul trailer rental.” In seconds he found a place 1.8 miles away. He got up to find the man.
    “Oh, great,” the man said. “Where is it?”
    Goines showed him the map on his phone. Something uncertain in the man’s comprehension prompted Goines to write it down. He went over to the counter and asked for a piece of paper and a pencil, and then called the number for the rental place, to make sure they were still in business and did rent U-Haul trailers, as advertised. They did, and when did he need a trailer? Goines said, “Not me, but a friend of mine. He needs it…tomorrow, or soon.”

    The man said, “I need it right now!”
    Goines told the rental place his friend was on the way. He wrote down the address and telephone number.
    “Thank you so much,” the man said. Goines hadn’t expected the emotion with which the man said it. “I think we should introduce ourselves.” He said his name was John and his last name rhymed with “bonus.”
    They chatted a bit about working out, and John said he was 86 years old. Goines told him he was 76. “You look good,” the man said.
    “You don’t look bad yourself,” said Goines.
    “You know anything about football?” the man asked.
    “Well, a little,” said Goines.
    “Back in the early ’70s, I played on a Pittsburgh Steelers farm team.” Goines quickly calculated that the man would have been around forty then.
    “I was working in a steel mill for $1.80 an hour when I found out they needed players. I was big, so they asked me. I played lineman in high school, but I didn’t want to do that. They would pay me $50 a game. Well…$50….”
    “So…did they let you play something else?”
    “Yeah, linebacker.”
    “That’s a defensive position, right?”
    “Yeah. In the 6th game, the other team was 3rd & 7 and they did a run where this big lineman even taller and heavier than me was supposed to take me out so a back could make the yardage. But I hit him low and he fell over onto the runner and stopped him right there.”
    “Hey, pretty good!” Goines said.
    “But as I was walking off the field, he tackled me from behind and destroyed my knee.” The man pulled up his right trouser leg to show Goines the scars, not unlike those of knee-replacement surgery. “That was my last game,” the man said. “I was in the hospital for 16 days. The steel mill paid my expenses. After that….”
    They talked a bit longer, about how John next became an airline pilot, until ear surgery damaged an ear drum, and then an electrician…“We do what we can,” he said.
    “Do you talk to your brain?” John asked.
    Goines told him he sometimes used “auto-suggestion” or “self-commanding” before going to sleep at night.
    John nodded. “That’s it. I say to my brain, Hey, I know you’re busy and have a lot of really important things to think about, and I’m a nobody. But, if you have a moment, well, you know, I could use some help.”
    Goines felt a glow emanating from his heart and embracing both himself and John. He reached out for the man’s hand and said John’s name, to make sure he had it right and could remember it.
    John drew a blank on Goines’ name, probably hadn’t made an effort to remember it, so Goines took the piece of paper back and added “Goines” and his telephone number.

Copyright © 2019 by Moristotle