THE KING AND I

To some, what they may see is a City Slicker,
Who is seeking White Lighting,
And to taste that powerful stuff,
And possibly this is true, and to others,
They may see a Sharp Dress Man,
To them likewise they are true,
In fact, I am neither, yet I am both,
For I am Lawrence Cyril Cooper,
And in words my story has never been told.

I stand in front of this Abbot House,
On a ranch in northern Texas,
Talking to a 15 year old,
This is the year 1948, the war is over,
As my aunts and uncles have been before me,
I am wanting to be a sage,
This is why my presence of dress is so important,
For one day, he may become the King of Texas.

My life has never been an easy one,
Losing my mother at four days old,
Growing up following my brothers,
My closest being Alton,
As he is current known,
There in No Mans Land running that store,
Caring for our aging father,
While I stand here in Abbott talking to a 15 year old.

My road went from De Ridder LA,
Where I lost my mother in suicide,
When I was just four days old,
My father Clarence Cyril Cooper was a carpenter,
And sought another spouse to care for us children,
Three sons and one daughter, sweet Lilly,
And the young woman he chose,
Mother Emma did as best as she could.

We moved from De Ridder to Orange,
Alton loved to tell stories of old man Lutcher,
Throwing nickels from his Packard,
As he drove through those Orange streets,
Where the carpenter sons played,
As Alton became Kingfish,
Teaching me the skills of fighting,
To retrieve those nuggets of gold.

It would be at fish camp,
There upon Bowl Slough,
That his sons would hear the tales of our youth,
And I would stand throwing my punches,
At the fireflies that darted in the night,
There about the fire light,
And Alton would remark, I was the Kingfish,
And I would settle back to my coffee,
That was boiled with River water,
Surely the apostles shared the same brew,
As they traveled across their holy land.

Our journey took us up to Monroe,
Another town in need of a carpenter,
A carpenter found work where he could,
There my half-sisters took off to work in Kentucky,
Some say they were entertainers,
Working as dancers in Lexington,
This was the depression, and life was not easy,
We three brothers with our younger Art,
Struck off to California,
And the promise of gold.

Alton at the age of 13,
Took off on the road,
And started his pen and prose,
One of his best verses,
Tells of the plight of his friend Blacky,
In Moonlight and Skies,
I likewise picked up the pen,
And by grace received recognition,
For putting my thoughts into verse.

James and Alton worked picking California peaches,
This was the only gold that they found,
They returned to start their own Orchard of Gold,
There upon the banks of the Sabine,
Where the trees were left to the care of our Uncle,
Who was a famous teamster pulling Cypress,
His call could be heard,
All through the Sabine Bottom,
And this is his story to be told.

Alton returned to the Feather River Camp, with Vivian,
Bringing her back on a side door Pullman,
And that Varnado girl rode with the best,
Starting their family with their first born Silva,
I acquired a wife, who was raised in Abbott,
Returning with Sibyl to begin our life,
Where our first born Larimae was born,
There upon the banks of the Feather River,
Where the pines were as majestic as those of the Sabine,
And the water as swift, yet still much colder.

In 1941 Alton, family, along with our dad,
Departed California in a 38 Terra-plane,
His foot was as hot as his soul,
But it was our sister Ruby and not he,
Who took out the gas pump at 7 mile junction,
As they returned to Bancroft,
And to that Orchard of Gold,
Times were hard, and hearing the call.

I stayed and put a uniform on for my country,
The son of a carpenter, and grandson of a Mason,
Guided from birth by aunts as true as a level and square.

Here I stand dressed in my best ,
As my aunts constantly explained,
In their efforts to raise me properly,
Both the Whitman Girls and the Patterson Sisters,
Aunts Mae and Myrtle, most respectfully,
Never to go into the public unpresentable,
For one day, you may never know,
A photo may appear of you,
Standing before the King of Texas.

This is a tribute to a man who strived to be an example to my brothers and sisters... I alreadly have a post that discuss his shadow boxing at fish camp...entitled three dollar shirt...to have fished camp with Uncle Larry, my dad and my brothers was an experience that money cannot buy...there still is the story of the hog that kept getting in his corn--(dads prize sow)--...eventually I will write of that...It was inspired by a picture I received most recently of him standing in front of a 15 year old, uncle Larry was dressed...he always presented himself this way...standing in front of a Abbott Ranch House,the year was 1948 talking to a 15 year old William Nelson, his nephew...The 15 year cowboy became....WILLIE...thus, the title The King and I........

wanna go to heaven...

WHY MATHETICIANS, ECONOMISTS AND STATISTICIANS CAN'T GET TO HEAVEN

On the same day two 60 year olds, Edsel and Lexus are recalled and brought to the gates by the four horsemen; the first horse is a beautiful white Arabian that St. Peter comments must have been a trade acquired by Edwin Duhon from some Saudi Prince for some land in Holly Beach before Rita hit; The second was a few leopard spotted Appaloosa that St. Peter felt must have been broken by Chief Joseph himself.

Followed by the third, a mustang which must have been the one that put Buck Ramsey in the chair, and the last of the four is a scraggly, Florida cracker horse which must have been owned by Carl Sharp.

The two are delivered and placed in front of St. Peter and he begins his inquest of their lives.

The first, Edsel;

Comments that his life was spent on drink and drugs, to which St. Peter remarks that it says in the book of Genesis to take of the herbs of the fields, and that Jesus, did drank wine with the Apostles, and is given his gold card to get through the gate.

The second, Lexus;

In his inquisition by St. Peter is asked of his performance on earths terra floor; to which he remarks that his life was spent playing with some log rhythms while skewing some numbers, thus St. Peter shouts, you have broken one of the most holiest of commandments, thou shall not for not cate...The statistician in his most logical mind attempts to explain the method as how to skew some numbers while working with log rhythms, St. Peter becomes even more outraged charging him with blasphemy on top of the earlier charge. Thus Lexus is thrown from heaven to the fire below.

Remember, to get to heaven it is easier if you use drugs and drink, rather than to spend you life as a statistician who skew numbers or a mathaticians who plays with log rhythms.