The Captain was on deck reading "Tales of St. John & The Caribbean" when a slight thump against the starboard bow was followed by, "Ahoy!"

I leaned over the rail to see Ann-Marie Carter-O'Connor-Wilson in her little motor boat. She is the woman we met under the seven-mile-bridge who lives a hyphenated life. When we first met she was fishing for fishermen, using Estee Lauder for bait.

"Come aboard, friend."

"Brought you a snapper."

"How'd you find us?"

"Just asked around. Not a big deal around here. Most people know who is who and who is new."

"Still using Estee Lauder as bait?"

"Channel number 5."

"You mean Chanel?" The Kid offered.

"No channel. Not fishing for another hyphen. I was over at what I call channel 5, caught this snapper, dipped my hand in the water and splashed myself clean to bring the fish to you. So, if you smell anything, its me and maybe channel 5." Her eyes twinkled as she explained. She knew she had baited me with the Chanel/channel thing, but went on about her determination to end adding hyphens to her life.

This Captain is still unsure if she is connecting or dividing her life up by all the hyphens. It doesn't seem like it's just a name thing. She is quite disconnected from her passion in life and escape has escaped her. We invited her to stay to share the fish. It seems she had intended to, and appeared quite lively to share with us her new plan.

"I'm heading to Bohemia."

"Where? Its many places you know?"

"Here. Not here, like right here, but here like in here." She pointed to herself.

Our hyphenated friend had wanted to be an artist, but had put her life on hold as she married over and over again. Each marriage separated her from her dream to be an artist. She had separated herself from herself for so long that there no longer was a name she could be identified by to identify who she really was. People. Women people and men too, but especially women put their lives on hold to assume another life, assuming life is life and life will go on as they divide into segments usually labeled with titles.

"So you're going to paint?"

"I'm gonna try. But, first...first I have to connect with who I am again."

The Kid frowned at this. Connecting and who I am talk are really hyphenated expressions. Our friend had decided to stop adding hyphens to her name, but was continuing to add hyphens to her life. "Just paint!" The Kid exhorted.

Our friend was silent. The Captain was silent. The snapper was sizzling. The harbor was calm. The sky was beginning to fill with gulls flapping ever closer to the grill attached to the rail of our sloop.

Every part of our new friend was divided up. If she would make it to Bohemia, now was the time to go. The Kid could see beyond a good-hearted person and a kind-hearted friend, knowing that those indentifiers were hyphenated labels of a much better person than labels can identify.

"OK. Just paint it'll be." Her eyes twinkled. They appeared to be blue and not a blue-green look like the Keys-water-color that they had taken on before.

This was an odd encounter. The Captain and The Kid had not escaped. Perhaps though,we had helped someone else to do so.

The Captain and The Kid