Yet One More Dinner -- and More

Maxwell bought my dinner tonight.

It's not the first time. For more years than I can easily remember, he has been looking out for me -- at least since the time in college when he saved me from the hostile aggression of a drunken cowboy at a Waylon Jennings concert at the Northside Coliseum. It's a long story. Suffice it to say that he has for decades now felt a sort of fraternal obligation.

There were those times when he decided I wasn't dating...er...uh..."interesting" enough girls and so took it upon himself to -- how shall I say this with dignity -- "set me up." There was the time, years later, when I was diagnosed with cancer and he showed up in my hospital room almost before I knew about the diagnosis myself, with plans to fly me across the country to an international specialist. There was the time, years later, when he, himself, flew across the country to console me at a time when I was inconsolable.

More times than not, his ministrations have involved food -- always at his expense: steak, more times than one; tamales, barbecue, fried catfish, jalapeno hushpuppies, chicken, and tonight fish. We are, after all, getting older.

Food, that is, and friendship. Always, devoted friendship.

It's funny. Tonight we were once again reminiscing and taking stock. We met in high school and lived together most of the way through college, and still we seem like yin and yang. No one who knows us can figure out our connection. We have, by all observation, virtually nothing in common, save abiding affection. I won't belabor the comparisons. Let's just say we are different; a cursory glance would conclude that we live very different lives.

And yet our lives have almost eerily paralleled. We know each other at the core, even if our surfaces bear little resemblance. I, just to say it succinctly, have always been more appropriate; Max has always been more interesting. I don't know what else to say.

And tonight, once again, he bought my dinner. And said grace at the table. Grace, indeed, and blessing. My beloved friend. With whom I have nothing in common...

...except almost everything.

And in ways that have only peripherally to do with the meal, I came home very, very full.