In the fall of 1994, my brother The Professor was moving back to England for good. I don’t recall why I wasn’t around when he dropped off boxes of things at my father’s house for storage, but I do know as soon as I could, I was in the basement rooting through them.
Know that since I came out of the womb, I’ve been obsessed with my brother’s stuff on an almost genetic level. I think it’s because I revered him like a god.
I remember he had a model of the shuttle from the movie 2001: A Space Odyssey that I would risk life and limb by entering into his room to play with. He had other models too, like a Saturn rocket that nearly stood as tall as me at the time. I was scared to touch it because I knew that there was an extremely fragile lunar lander on the inside and if he discovered that I had accidentally snapped off one of the aerials or radar dishes, I would be going down three flights of stairs wrapped in a sleeping bag.
I remember rummaging around in his stuff and finding a set of blue dishes (incomplete) dated from 1912. I snagged those. I also found a couple tea sets and various other fun dishes that followed me around during my 30s. He had (still has!) incredible tastes.
As I type this, I suddenly realize I have no clue how I came into possession of his swan painting. Did my other brother, The Writer, hand it over to me because he was moving and could no longer keep it for The Professor? Did I find the painting in the back of the Professor’s belongings in Dad’s basement?
Somehow, it came to me. And I loved it.
Flash forward to the almost now, 6 years ago. We’re in the midst of the Great Merge when I moved in with SharkBoy. It’s like Christmas for both of us as we gleefully find spots for all my stuff. Graciously SharkBoy allows all my robots to occupy the TV room. Something to this day I’m still grateful for. When it came to unpacking my paintings, I revealed the Swan Painting (by an artists whose name escapes me…Gould somebody or other… Dan…?).
With excitement, I say, “I love the colours of this one! Can we put it up in the bedroom?”
It’s then that I notice how far SharkBoy’s face has fallen. It’s like I’ve unwrapped a comic book fake dog poo and revered it as art.
We “argued” off and on about that painting for over 6 years. Until last week when The Professor came back onto possession of the painting, donating it to his best friends who actually know the artist. People who obviously deserve it more than us.
I will always remember it. But I will remember more how SharkBoy and I use to tease each other about it.
Don’t cry for us. When Dad left us, SharkBoy picked up a painting that Dad imported from Mexico that the family dubbed “Meaty Ass Boy”.
I’ll let him describe that one to you all.
Know that today we’re both writing about this painting. Why not go visit his blog to see what he says?