Joe Cocker

Sitting comfortably on the end of the dock, she stares across the mirror-perfect lake at the island about 10 miles away. She can tell it is inhabited because of the boat moored on the beach. The drift of lazy smoke with no mind of its own. Always, just that one if any at all. And now thinking about it, only just sometimes. Even during winter. Just sometimes.

For all these years, living here, coming here to be by her self, staring out at that island. It has became her solitude as well as ...whose?

Thinking about it now she turned to look back over her shoulder at Fred’s Bait and Groceries behind her. I’ll bet Norman knows. I wonder if Fred is in.

She glances at her wrist watch. Two-forty five. Naaah, Fred is probably napping by now. I’ll bet Norman would know.

She gets up off the end of the dock and before turning and walking back off the dock to the shop, stands and stares at the island again. Peaceful.

Turning now, walking back along the dock glancing into the water to see all the rocks dark and gloomy on the bottom, an occasional darting trout, she listens for the creeks in all the boards she knows to step on as she strolls along.

On the black top she crosses over and up the stairs skipping a few and into the shop, pushing the door and jingling the door bells, “Hey Norman. How ya doing?”

Norman glancing up from the newspaper sitting there, leaning forward on his stool, “Hey Cass!”, not needing to tell her, ‘same oh, same oh’.

Cass now on the opposite side of the counter waits for him to lay the paper down. “Who lives on the island?”

Norman, raising his eyebrows slightly. He has known Cass now for about four or five years and her Mom Kathy. “Well Cass, if I was to tell you, you’d have to swear you won’t tell. It ain’t that I don’t trust you, but I think I know you well enough to tell you so you won’t go blabbing it all around Maxwell. We got a deal?” Norman ready to read her expression.

“Really? It’s some kind of a secret?”

“Well, yes it is.”

“Well then, you got my word on it.”

“And you not going to share this with anyone or make a fuss or go out and bother him?”

“I was just curious. I don’t mean to make no trouble.”

“Well, I don’t recon you would Cass. Names Joe Cocker. Mean anything to you?”

“Nope.”

“Didn’t recon it would. Joe Cocker is a musician. That island there is his get away. He uses it on a need to need bases. If his boat is there, he’s there.”

“Yeah, I see his boat and the smoke for his chimney.”

Norman glances up to look through the front window. “Yep. He’s there.”

“So, who’s Joe Cocker?”

Norman smirks a little with a half raised smile. “Joe Cocker is one of the real rebel rousers anti-government anti-Vietnam protesters that there ever was. Him, Joan Bias, Bob Dylan, and about a dozen other very popular bands back in the sixties and seventies were the thorn in the side of the US Government.”

“My Mom probably knows of him.”

“But you are not going to tell her, are you?”

“A promise is a promise Norman. Does anyone else know about him being there?”

“Oh, a few.”

“Well, thanks Norman. And thanks for the trust.”

Norman looks her in the eyes and says, “Well, Cass your welcome. But, I don’t mean to be so blunt but this here issue is a make or break friendship thing between us.”

“I understand.”

“Okay then. Enough said. Go on over and get one of chocolate bars your always buying. This one’s on me.”

“Well then”, now smiling broadly, “I’ll just have to come in and ask you more questions Norman.”

“Get outa here!”

Bright Brent ... Brighter Susan?

He thought he'd have a bit of fun here. Brent would never know what hit him! Neither would Susan.

...Summer time in Mississippi was always slow in the evenings. Neighbors were outside on their patio’s sitting, chatting with each other. Big ol sycamores and willows holding what air moved, what gossip was spread.

Movies were always popular in the air conditioned theater. Laughs and maybe tears all with popcorn and Coke with too much ice.

Lots of folks on the bayou would float out under the canopy of stars on those evenings to fish, and just be by themselves. Not interested in gossip. Their gaze always upwards reflecting upon the Greeks, Egyptians, Persians and Palestine’s wondering if Orion looked the same back then.

The Fourth of July was always the big event of those lazy days, with the watermelons, horse shoe throwing, and barbeques down by the river park into the late evening. Brent had always thought fireworks were candy for the eyes. Never long enough.

But, it was the County Fair that brought the circus to town with the same ancient amusement rides every year. Vickburg being the county seat meant a chance to meet someone new. Maybe catch the eye of a pretty girl that only saw him as he is now. Not knowing him for all his childhood pranks and a time when he loved to be just plain silly. Not realizing that tabs were being kept by everyone here that knew him, or at least thought they did.

All the handy wares and cooked wares plus the 4-H "Best-of-All" competition located over at the livestock pavillion were among the favorite places. Everyone always trying to ring the bottle and win their honey a big stuffed bear.

Yeah, these were the days of summer in Vicksburg, Mississippi for everyone. Everyone, that is, except for Brent.

It isn’t that he gave all that much thought to what he believed was only going to be a funny prank; a prank to be remembered by. That was really all he ever wanted, to be remembered in association with something big, something that would bring a smile or laugh on someone's face. Something to offset the smashed-in front window of the hobby shop on Miller Street. Honestly, he swore he had simply lost his balance looking at the models hanging in the window front.

So when he snuck into the Fairgrounds that Saturday night at 3:00 AM he was just going to ‘turn-on’ all the rides: the Ferris-wheel, the Merry-go-round, the Dumbo Ride, the Tea Cup Ride, the ‘Big Drop’, and the Roller Coaster with a Ronald McDonald's look alike at the controls. So he ‘stole’ the Ronald McDonald from the local McDonalds and glued him to the controls booth having broken into them and throwing the master switch and set all of these rides and the entire circus, again at 3:00 AM, into ACTION. Music blaring. Lights blaring and him laughing all the while the security guard screaming with his... girl friend? Wow! Where were they? Oh! There they are in the Roller Coaster seats, now going lickity-split, around and around... and around.

Meanwhile Clyde Hutchison woke up needing to pee something fierce. He initially got out of bed with the intent of navigating his way into what was normally his darkened bathroom, all without bumping into a single thing as usual. Having lived there all his life, he knew the place pretty well so there was never any need for lights. But, tonight the room was lit brightly and he could see pretty well. He could also see Jerry and Cindy flying by in the first seat of the Roller Coaster and, as he timed it, once every minute.

Clyde scratched his head and thought, “What time is it?" Shuffling back into the bedroom, he reached for his watch on the bedside table and turned it over twice until he figured that he knew it wasn’t 9:00 PM because he’d gone to bed after the news at 10:30 PM and so then it must be 3:00 AM. So, what was the Circus doing with everything on at 3:00 AM? He walked back into his bathroom to make sure he wasn't dreaming. Nope! He wasn't dreaming. There was Jerry and Cindy, Cindy still screaming, by the way, and still passing by his window every minute on the minute.

Susan was awakening now. She rolled over and asked Clyde, “What’s all the racket?”

“The Circus is all the racket.”

“What?”

“Go see for yourself.”

Susan got up out of bed and did her own unique shuffle to the bathroom. She stood there and watched Jerry and Cindy fly past her twice before she returned to the bedroom. She turned on the lights and looked Clyde straight into his eyes and said, “You know what I think?”

“No Susan. I don't know what you think.”

“Of course not. I know that. But, I’m gonna tell you anyways.”

“That I knew.”

“Call the police and tell them someone is playing a mean prank on Jerry and to get over here before he tries to get off that Roller Coaster and hurt himself. Do that first and then I'll tell you what to do next.”

Clyde, knowing not to argue, does as he's told.

In the middle of this conversation between Clyde and Tom, the Police Officer who is related to Susan by the marriage of her sister to Vic and which Tom is his brother, Susan grabs the phone out of Clyde’s hand.

“Tom, this is Susan. Get your butt down here now", she yelled into the receiver. "Jerry Crutchfield's on the Roller Coaster with Cindy and someone's turned the damn thing on... along with the rest of the circus rides. We need to get it all turned off!” She slams the phone receiver down.

Now, looking over at Clyde again, “Ok, get out there quickly and tell Jerry and Cindy... tell them to sit tight, hold on and someone will be coming to rescue them. Go on, move it. Now!”

“How am I suppose to tell them all of that with all that noise from them going around and around and around?”

She throws up her hands and shakes them in circles overhead as if to rid herself of annoying mosquitos, or something, “Never mind! Get out of my way”

Clyde, having learned the hard way from the past what to do when a woman is determined, smartly steps aside.

Susan jerks off her night gown and fights her way into her tight-fitting pants hanging on the bedpost. After wrestling into her wrinkled blouse with a missing button, she heads for the back door, opens it and walks across the back yard. There, she opens the gate to the County Fairgrounds and struts confidently over to the rumbling Roller Coaster. She waves to get Jerry and Cindy's attention on the first round. After eight minutes, they finally yell back at her, “Okay!”

She looks around and sees The Fair's main building that was built back in the thirties. She figures that might be the main source of electricity for the entire Fairgrounds. She walks over and notices Ronald McDonald through the door. With all the music playing loudly yet rhymically to the general mechanical rumbling generated by all the rides, she notices the clown has been glued to the controls, each lever fixed in the ‘on’ position.

She walks back outside to look for the main switch typically housed inside a metal box. She spies one but it is bolted closed. She walks back through her gate and into her garage. Clyde stands there staring at her. Without saying a word, she grabs a sledge hammer from the corner and returns to the Fairgrounds. By now, the deafening roar of the mechanical circus ruckamaroll is accompanied and eventually being drowned-out by the ever-increasing blare of police sirens. Well, at least Cindy's stopped screaming.

But, Susan has it in her mind to take care of this situation all by herself, once and for all, and get back to sleep.

She smashes the electrical control main breaker. Not once or twice, but three times. The lid surrenders to her determination allowing her to reach inside and pull down on the main electrical circuit breaker.

Brent, viewing all of this from the vantage point of his nest atop the Fairy-Go-Round, suddenly yells, “No!”

But, is it too late? Clyde is without instruction for the remainder of his life.

Moral of the story: "Ronald is not always a Happy Meal – you know!"... in a round-about sort of way.

Learning as a child that I am.

In the high serene dry desert of the new Mexico, north of old Mexico, stands rising lifted and tilted up what is called the Sangre de Christo – The blood of Christ. The name given by the Spaniards – Conquistadors. This mountain range birthing from two slow colliding platonic plates of aged earth stands like a tablet to the wise and learned – whose inhabitants solely from long knowing – are: The Sioux, the Apache, The Hopi, the Navajo, the Southern and Mountain Ute, the Pueblo enclaves and at the very moment first seen with human mind, the Anasazi –the Ancient Alien Ones of Mesa Verde, Bandelier and another place lost.

This great rise of earth is the Continental divide. All part of the same up thrust of crushing colliding earth called the Rocky Mountains and to the south the Andes.

The Navajo call these mountains Sandia. Watermelon. A split watermelon which is red.

This red can clearly be seen in the setting sun.

Bien Mur – Big Mountain is the name given by the Hopi and Pueblo Indians.

As a child I would stand atop this range with my Grandfather, Shelby and look out and take this in. In all my travels around the world I used this knowledge to see and understand the rest.

Captain Frances, Chapter 1

Captain Frances, the Notorious, the Ferocious…


A true story.

Oh! By the way when I was in high school, my Mom, being 'on to me' would be cooking dinner in the kitchen and have a nasty, suspicious, totally unwarranted thought. Haaa! The nerve of her! I mean... really!

She would call out to me, "Bob! Are you doing your homework?"
Me, fingers' crossed, from my bedroom, "Yeeessss Mom!"
Mom, "You’re not writing any stories?"
Me, fingers still crossed because I was 'on to her' too, "NOOOOO!"
Mom, being totally on to me, "Are your fingers crossed!"
Me, quick to recover - uncrossing my fingers, "NOOOOO!"

But anyway, as I was saying, before I interrupted myself, back in the ol' Pirate days of sailing, there was this (this is true, remember?) notorious, ferocious, dreadful, awful, ferocious (Did I say that already?) scoundrel named Captain Frances of the 'Lost Islands'. That’s what she said, but she was really from Holland. Wooden cloppity clop clogs an all. She liked her notoriety and constantly desired to embellish it.

She was sooo cruel and sooo mean and every nasty thing. She was an excellent fighter of the first rank and kept her crew in tow. They dreaded her dearly for their own lives and the only reason for which they ventured to be aboard her ship, the Vendetta Magnificent, was because she was the most notorious, ferocious, dreadful, awful Pirate EVER. But, she was a skilled Captain of all the seas, none the less. And her bounty was always great and she was fair in the share.

When Captain Frances, the Pirate born to be, ran away from her Dutch homeland, she left the poor Dutch boy with his finger stuck in the dike. See! She was even awful then!!!! But, back to the story. Throw your cape over your shoulder and tilt your hat back. Okay? One more time! Practice makes perfect!

One day she fought a glorious fight against an eighteen wheelhouse, canon-decked galleon and out of nowhere, an ambush. Two other galleons that suspected her evil ways came to assist in the defense and the newly established odds of victory swung drastically against her and she appeared doomed.

But, before this day, along the Ivory Coast, the Vendetta Magnificent ported to take on goods and stores. An AWOL Frenchman of some skill applied to her ships service as a cook. With him was a parrot whose first name was Catchacatchanocatchme. His last name was Oreyewillbiteyouinthebuttwhenyouarenotloooking.

Catchacatchanocatchme only liked to be sunning himself above board on the main deck, and as the notorious ferocious dreadful awful Captain Frances took a liking for Catchacatchnocatchme, she allowed the Parrott to reside on a perch at the helm, but under one condition. He would be called ‘Pete’. The parrot smiled at the Captain.

Now, back to our story.

But wait! First another important part. See! I almost forgot and without this important part… well, you’ll see!

The Notorious, Ferocious, Dreadful, Awful Captain Frances, though a very skilled fighter was also from a very young age very much attracted to magic. Haaaa! Yes! She learned the art of Magic from the most skilled magicians the world over.

Now Pete was quite a clever bird, and as he was in such a close proximity to the Notorious, Ferocious, Dreadful, Awful Captain Frances, he learned all of these artful designs of deception.

The Captain would entertain the crew on occasion of good spirits and Pete would be there at her side, “Ahhhh, Ahhhh, it’s up her sleeve. It’s up her sleeve!” and the Notorious, Ferocious, Dreadful, Awful Captain Frances, would laugh and pull the object from her sleeve! She would perform another trick, and Pete would call out, “Ahhh Ahhh! It’s under her hat. It’s under her hat!” Of course the crew would double over in laughter! Everyone remained in high spirits! Pete rocking back and forth doing the two step in his glory.

Nooooow, finally back to that dreadful day.

Captain Frances's ship, the Vendetta Magnificent, was blown to smithereens! The Captain hid in the debris of a fallen mast and remained still until the enemy left. When the coast was clear, she pulled herself up on the mast. It is there where Pete found her and he perched himself on the opposite end of the mast.

Captain Frances called out, “Hey Pete! How are you?”

Pete just starred at her and frowned. He would not take his eyes off of Captain Frances. She would call out to him, "Hey Pete! Are you okay." But he remained fixed upon her with a stern look. A week went by. Two weeks! Finally Pete perked up one day saying: “Okay! I give up! What did you do with the Ship.

Captain Frances, Chapter 2.

Chapter 2.



Captain Frances and Pete woke and found on the not far distance a jet of land of which the Captain knew. Having rigged from torn and frayed canvas a make shift sail they reached land fall by mid day.

Pete, before their arrival, took flight and brought back bananas.

Water was the thing of which she needed most and had it not been for the rains of an ocean squall to quenched her thirst and give her some substance she would have surly perished.

Once reaching land the Captain with Pete made their way along the coast to a town in the bay. She took from her satchel, tucked into her belt, some bouillon to barter. With careful scrutiny she surveyed all and only then went into a tavern and Inn with assurance of not being known.

Pete on her shoulder kept vigil watch as well. With any suspicious character, setting his claw to the Captain’s shoulder. The two had become a pair.

With room and board the Captain restored her health and made now plans to regain her rightful reign. With this in mind, she purchases a Ketch and departed to Nicor and the stored bounty of which she had made provisions for, in just such an event as this.

Back now to the bay, she made arrangements to purchase a galleon of like design which had been her demise with a few additional modifications. In stead of canon balls she would use compact metal fragments. It would remove the varmints with little damage to the ship. Thus was born shrap metal. She ordered a union jack to be made. All part of the plan. Uniforms to be worn by her crew. All part of the plan.

She assembled a crew. It would make due. She had to get to the Ivory Coast. And that she knew.

Once on the Ivory Coast she recruited a regiment of highly skilled Spaniards which were already baited for all. A dislike for the English, True spirited and with a romance for the seas, here was her needs with a pledge of loyalty on their knees.

The day arrived. The Sea blew fresh. All stores and munitions aboard. She walked back and forth before this pledged loyalty. Yes! Like a royalty. Pete on her shoulder she showed only her calm. And in a voice just audiable “Set sail’, she said, and that was all.

The magic of those days before, were now put to rest, except for the one big show of which the English would learn the test! Captain Frances the Notorious, Ferocious, Dreadful, Awful was now know as only Captain Frances. Except to her foes. Her foes where every self serving, self righteous, self indulging, repressive slim of all, well, let’s be nice - cockiepop.

Three English galleons of brilliant red white and blue, where now to be hers. The very ones who had ganged up on her. It was her rightful due.

And upon the set sail of a southeasterly wind, from the top mast look-out one day her man did shout: “Thar is that English Devil my Captain”, pointing, as all on deck looked up and then out. There on the horizon was the flag ship that had destroyed her unfairly – three ships to one.

“Set the English flag, my lads.” Cried loudly the Captain. “Change into your English garb. Look alive! Be alive! For that there carrion is our bounty one third.”

“Aye Aye”, returned the crew in unison. “Aye, Aye Captain Frances, we know exactly what to do.”

Captain Frances, Chapter 3

Chapter 3.


The command of Captain Frances drew neigh and along the breadth of … of the ‘Golden Hind’. The Spaniards were one and all suddenly aghast and almost frothing at the mouth. Frances asked, her first in command, “What? What stirs the men such as this?”

“Aye Captain Frances, Aye.” Not taking his eyes, now riveted and narrowed, off of the Golden Hind. “That there be the ‘Golden Hind’. She is the wrath of all Spaniards. That lady of the Seas is Diablo himself to every Spaniard alive and those perished by her wrath and now gone. Wo betide this day Captain Frances. There shall not be one left of her crew at the end of this day.”

“Aye”, returned the Captain. “Aye, she is my sworn curse as well.”

And as Frances drew along side, the Golden Hind, the Pommies all smiles being so assuredly and smug, now all hands on deck to greet their fellow ‘English’ men. All their guns still encased and covered in canvas, there suddenly came a volley of one sound only.

Pete found himself in what seemed heaven, for the height at which be found himself to be, was now above what was then, those ships. A quick inventory and an account of all feathers, to make sure he was not the one made magic, returned to the Captains shoulder.

"Hey Pete! Hey! How are you?"

"Ahhh! Ahhh! Up yours! Up yours!", returned Pete. "How about a little warning."

The two ships now sailed in unison, together they’d be searching for two more.

Captain Frances - 4th and Final Chapter

Chapter 4 The Finale’
The crew of the ‘Mary Rose’ of which Captain Frances had provided the paint for, this designation- Mary Rose - now with the bounty – the infamous ‘Golden Hind’, was divided into two.
The two ‘English’ galleons set the compass for the Ivory Coast, once again, to now increase their size for both ships plus that again. For they now were after the ‘Ark Royal’ and the ‘Revenge’. The two remaining English devils which having unfairly ganged up on ‘The Lady’, Captain Frances, the Notorious, Ferocious, Dreadful, Awful.
An ease at once became the calm for the seas journey on both the Mary Rose and the Golden Hind. The Spaniards, one and all were finally at peace.
All the way to the Ivory Coast the resting Spaniards, not ‘on-watch’, who should have slept, played their guitars late into the night. The ballads of past romance serenaded all the men and one lady, into the wee night hours. Floating across the ocean waves and still to this day a Senorita begets a romance.

Back now at the Ivory Coast the ships split. One to remain at Sea on guard, the other to Port to recruit. The Mary Rose went into dock. The tale of what was done brought more than double for what she needed to now avenge the ‘Ark Royal’ and ‘Revenge’, the two accomplices to the ‘Golden Hind’.
The brief rest in port was now in an atmosphere of importance. One could feel it and see it in all. This tyranny of wanton English Greed was now with an equal foe with a deed.
And thus these two galleons, the Mary Rose and the Golden Hind with twice the men needed for each, embarked upon the seas again.
Captain Frances had purchased an entire wardrobe of English garb for each and every man aboard. They would wait to intersect the route the English would take. There they deployed four Ketches packed to the gunwales each, of the Spaniards in disguise as English men and as men abandoned to sea, but with a peculiar impediment. All were so ‘famished’ none could speak. All were with concealed arms sewn into their cloths.
The Mary Rose and Golden Hind waited over the horizon. A week later the two watches atop the Mary Rose and Golden Hind did bring all to life aboard like an echo one after the other, “Captain Frances! Captain Frances! Your Two, Your Two, new possessions, new possessions, are coming, are coming, to you, to you.
A Cheer rang out as never before upon the seas. The four ships, The Mary Rose, The Golden Hind, The Ark Royal and The Revenge where now under the command of Captain Frances. The Notorious, Ferocious, Dreadful, Awful lady of the Sea.
Pete doing the two step had this to say: “Ahhhh! Ahhhh! Awful Awful, nice, nice, she, she, be, be.”
Epilog:
What we can learn of these bygone days is little beyond the memoirs handed down now several generations through one Dutch Family. One Dutch family who’s Great, Great, Great, Great, Great-granddaughter by whose name is an air loom in the family, Frances Alleblas. She resides now in Singapor, an artist married to a philosopher.
By the way, does this last name of hers have any meaning that might ring a tone of semblance? Alleblas? ‘Boom!’
The ways of deception, being the core to every great magician is not all contained in this occupation. It is not Frances of who you should concern yourself with, but a sibling.
As Pete would say: “Ahhh! Ahhh! You got that right!” Will she reveal herself?
The English have of course hidden all traces of this fiasco. Even the Mary Rose they claimed, upon questions, was dashed ashore on New Haven, they claimed.
We find ourselves at times in history confronted with devils to deal with. Who might be our English tyrant of today? And who will arise to vanquish this new Diablo in disguise?
Where art thou Captain Frances?
“Ahhh! Ahhh! Right here! Right here!”