I wouldn’t have given her my left but I would have given my right. I never use my right, not unless it’s flipping patties on the barbecue, not unless I’m bowling. So pretty much that side’s useless. So my wife, she could have taken it or left it. It didn’t matter to me anyway. Aruba. St. Croix. We’ve been to all those places with the white sand from all the finely ground up coral. Beaches. It’s nice like that. Snorkeling together underwater in the Bahamas. But I’ve got to say this for myself: it wasn’t like the time when I was in a glass-bottomed boat. I was this kid there and there was a glass square of glass right in the bottom of the boat we were riding in, tourists. I was a kid then, Barbados I think it was. The guide told us all to look. And the feeling of seeing all those colored fish and me being above water in air breathing air while they were breathing in the water I think was the best part of it. I always wanted since then to breathe like a fish. My wife, she thinks I married her on account that I was a maniac, you know, a sex maniac, like you read about, and I can agree part way with her. That’s how these things all begin. If you like them, then that’s how it starts. The juices they are all flowing and everything, and both parties like that. But did I ever tell her about the clownfish I saw, the kind you can see at the National Aquarium in Washington, or any one that’s halfway decent? I’ve got to level with myself there, or God, or whoever, I didn’t communicate with her ever really how much I loved watching the little striped bastards darting in and out of the waving tentacles of the anemones poisonous to everything except these fish picking out all the leftovers in the swaying arms there for their food. I never believed in reincarnation or any of that Buddhist kind of voodoo. If I did, I’d as sure as the tail on Davy Crockett’s coonskin cap, come back as that, just by myself, as close to forever as I could.