‘You Are So Beautiful’

On this past Sunday, Trish and I were at the gym, the one we’ve written about before where we’ve seen Bruce Springsteen working out. No Springsteen sighting, but I did experience a music-related synchro. The music playing on the gym’s sound system that day was classic rock with a variety of tunes from the late 60s, early 70s. That was different from the usual more up-to-date selection, much of which doesn’t appeal to me. One of the tunes was Joe Cocker’s cover of the Beatles’ tune, She Came in Through the Bathroom Window. When I heard the song, I wondered what had happened to Cocker. I hadn’t heard anything about him for a long time.

Then late Monday, an old friend who works as a deejay at a radio station in Iowa that plays classic rock put up a Facebook comment about Cocker. He mentioned that Cocker was 70 years old, and noted it didn’t seem that old when you’re pushing 66. He apparently assumed that everyone reading the post would know that Joe Cocker died earlier in the day. I didn’t, not until Tuesday when I received an e-mail from a friend in London who said that she was mourning Cocker’s death and wrote a synchro related to him.

So in honor of the dynamic bluesy British rocker’s passing, here’s the story from Barb.

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When I lived in Sheffield, I used to go Latin dancing at a working men’s club in Tasker Road, the street where Joe was born. I’d never seen Joe live, but one day in 1994, there was a lovely documentary about him on TV, and as he was going to be playing in Sheffield with Sheryl Crow as support, I wanted to go.

I asked friends – some were going to be away, others were working nights (nurses!), and some just plain didn’t want to go as the ticket was too expensive. So I kind of gave up. No one would go with me.

Then, one day in my local supermarket, I was waiting to pay when I overheard the checkout woman talking to her manager. “So are you going to see Joe Cocker?” she asked. “No,” said the manager, “I’ve got no-one to go with. Nobody wants to go.”

I paused a while then said to her, “I’m in the same boat. I’ll go with you, if you want.” So once I’d bought my groceries, the manager took my number, told me she’d get tickets. The day before the gig, she called and told me she would come get me in her car.

Amazing trust. She didn’t know me and I hadn’t given her money for the ticket, but she bought the tickets anyway and I paid her on the day of the gig. Before it began, we had a drink in the pub opposite Sheffield Arena, then went to see Joe. And he was awesome.

I’ve never seen the woman again. I can’t even remember her name, but that event still stays in my mind as something magical. A synchronistic experience. Thank you, universe. Thank you, Joe.

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And thank you, Barb.

And, in some corner of heaven, there must be a lot of old rockers hanging out, commiserating about the past, and planning for future lives…if not already simultaneously living them.