"THE FOOL ON THE HILL" (published 11-11-2019)

Day after day, alone on a hill

The man with the foolish grin is keeping perfectly still

But nobody wants to know him

They can see that he's just a fool

And he never gives an answer

But the fool on the hill

Sees the sun going down

And the eyes in his head

See the world spinning 'round

Well on the way, head in a cloud

The man of a thousand voices talking perfectly loud

But nobody ever hears him

Or the sound he appears to make

And he never seems to notice

But the fool on the hill

Sees the sun going down

And the eyes in his head

See the world spinning 'round

And nobody seems to like him

They can tell what he wants to do

And he never shows his feelings

But the fool on the hill

Sees the sun going down

And the eyes in his head

See the world spinning 'round

He never listens to them

He knows that they're the fools

They don't like him

The fool on the hill

Sees the sun going down

And the eyes in his head

See the world spinning 'round

It’s time to get serious, folks! (I have a serious side; my right side; no, my left side!) On this Veterans Day, my plan to go to the homeplace was forestalled, by the need to see my chiropractor earlier today. (You don’t want to know the details. Trust me. The right rib is back in place!)

So, as I sit writing, alone, again, as usual, this afternoon, I remember Veterans Day. “The Fool on the Hill,” by the Beatles, is a great song, with a depth of meaning that one can make his own. I am doing so now.

Imagine (a pun on another song) the veteran, who has seen too much in life. He knows what he knows. He has seen and endured what he has seen and endured. He has served his country. Those around him, even closest non-veteran family and friends, do not understand him fully. He understands himself fully. His loud communication, of his own understanding of himself, to others receives incomplete and partial understanding at best. At worst, he receives the standard platitudes that cause him to wonder why he even tried to communicate with those who will never be wise enough to understand. The veteran, if he is wise enough to have taken the Good Lord’s free gift offer, thinks from the everlasting perspective. He does not care much for this space-time continuum. He knows he’s a speck of dust, on a larger speck of dust, in a vast, temporal expanse, which is not everlasting. By the way, I just left voice mail on my veteran brother’s phone. He might call back.

I did not serve in the military. (I wish that I had done so.) My “Fool on the Hill” thoughts do not compare with those of a combat veteran. Still yet, I have my thoughts. My thoughts are based on my life after “bionic” body parts. I had a pre-bionic body parts life. I am in an ongoing after bionic body parts life.

The acquisition of bionic body parts has deepened my thoughts of everlastingness. I had thought that my thoughts on everlastingness were deep. My thoughts were deep, but they were not as deep as they are now. (Did a little deeper in the well, boys!)

The catalyst to this writing is twofold. First, on work-a-day Wednesday of last week, a colleague -- who was present by phone, in the usual Wednesday-meeting-timewaste -- asked, “How is everyone?” My reply was, “I am surviving.” (My meaning was that I am enduring a work-a-day, with bionic body parts, again, as usual.) Her response was, “it’s better than being six feet under.” The others present physically laughed and agreed. I shook my head in silence. My thought was: “take me home, Lord! I’d rather have this body six feet under and be, in my soul, with you and many others!" I will get this body back, glorified, later! Of course, I was talking perfectly loud, while keeping perfectly still, as the “fool” on the hill.

The second catalyst was on 11/9/19, Saturday. I was doing the usual haul trash routine. (Mrs. Appalachian Irishman, by the way, was in her usual Dollar General, IGA, and go see her father routine.) While in my routine, I heard on my new, ‘ol truck’s radio “The Fool on the Hill!” Hey, that was great! (These various stations play their usual rotation, but this which-ever-station-it-was landed a good song at the right time!)

During the song, I thought back to work-a-day Wednesday. I thought in the everlasting perspective. I pitched the trash and the recycling. Then, I mused more to myself, again, as usual.

This “fool on a hill” does not care for the here and now. You know; the here and now is the usual: work-a-day-policywonk-psychobabble, local-national-international-news, weather-alert-day, sports-go-Steelers-Dawgs, let’s-hike, see-family-friends, what’s-the-good-bad-ugly-dear-glad-you’re-still-here-dear, when’s-supper-dear, Molly-doggie, why-do-I-have-a-fine-engine-and-transmission-but-a-busted-up-bionic-frame, every-four-week-deep-tissue-massage-followed-by-chiropractor, etc., etc. Oh, yes, I am about as tired of it as you are. I tired you, by your attempt to figure out what I just wrote!

Despite the previous, do not doubt my stubborn, Irish endurance. As a fine Irish lady once said, “You can always live in hope, even if you die in despair!” There always will be will in my spirit, in body or not. As long as my spirit is in this body, and as long as I have power in this body, busted up such as I am, I WILL endure to the end – of this temporal existence – to be taken HOME! When are you coming, Lord? When will be my turn to go Home, if You don’t come before? Silence, again, as usual.

Well, at least yesterday, after House Mountain hike #161, on niece-in-law’s birthday, Mrs. Appalachian Irishman and I placed the outdoor thermometer on the front porch. I had bought the $5.59-made-in-China thermometer at Ace Hardware, on 4/16/19. Hey, it takes me a few months (about seven) to get something done now. I’m slowed by my bionic body parts.

This “fool” on the hill is signing off now. Mrs. Appalachian Irishman just came home. My veteran brother has not called back yet. Let’s all take up the Lord’s free gift offer, live by it, and go Home!

So, who is brave enough to comment?