Jo and her Indian Pass Home


opened hearts,


created arts


and gave dreamers


a retreat to call home.


Jo’s old upright


Wellington piano


on the back porch


played music and songs


beyond melodies and words,


where its lack of keys stocked


Jim Beam, Kahlua, Smirnoff


and you name it, mixed drinks


of all kinds serving


as a real piano bar.


Jo loved history and


bought the Jimmy McNeil


family home near


the Indian Pass Raw Bar


to have it moved to her spot on


Indian Pass beach.


Its attached porches surrounded


each room with creaky wooden


floors and well worn rockers


and a hammock here and there.


Shells, pottery shards and frog


fig leafed knick knacks were part


of her creative and fun décor.


Her kitchen held so many


family and party aromas


that visitors sitting outside


leaned in to capture them again.


And to deter intruders


Jo set a pair of size 12


men’s leather shoes


by her front door.


Jo had an answer for everything.


Upbeat and positive


she rattled off stories and legends


of family and visitors


from near and afar.


Old photos on her walls of cowboys


sitting on her porch rockers


with guns on their laps


made you feel like you were


part of Indian Pass history.


I used to stop by to visit Jo and twice


brought my friend Trish from Tampa,


who told me after I had told her


that Jo had died that she had had


a dream about Jo two nights before.


In her dream


Trish and I were visiting Jo


who was happily floating around her porch


wearing a long whitish flowy caftan,


with her hair up like Katherine Hepburn.


Our soft spoken gracious hostess,


hummed softly!


Whispering that


SHE WAS NOW JUST FINE!


What a peaceful reconnection


Jo gave Trish and I in her dream.


Trish told me she thanked the Lord


for allowing her to have that


wonderful dream


where Jo hugged us both


and waved goodbye


saying “see you later.”


© Debbie Hooper


March 17, 2020