Sunday, November 22, 2020



11/21/2020, Saturday, 5:23 PM, with a neighbor still mowing his yard, at twilight, I begin to write. I probably will not post this until tomorrow. Yes, I’m hungry. Yes, supper is at 6 PM. Mrs. Appalachian Irishman, who has “Corona Myopia Psychosis,” is working on it.

1970 Papaw Ferrell

Papaw Ferrell was born on 4/13/1880. He left this world on 11/21/1970, when I was age ten. I remember him well. I have fine memories of Papaw Ferrell. He enjoyed the outdoors, wilderness world. I don’t think that Granny Ferrell cared much for his extended time in the woods – hunting, trapping, etc. She put up with it – as Mrs. Appalachian Irishman does with me.

His name was and still is Marion Ferrell. He did not have a middle name. My first and, of course, last name is from him. Marion is Merrion, spelled correctly. It means, in Gaelic, “brave man.” Ferrell is Fearghail, from the Irish. It means, in Gaelic, “man of valor.” My middle name, William, was and still is the middle name of Mom’s father, Aby William Wood.

Hey, Papaw Ferrell, House Mountain hike #174 was in your honor. Men like us need, or needed, our time in the woods. It helps me defeat “Corona Myopia Psychosis.” I look forward to enjoying the heavenly wilderness with Papaw Ferrell, eventually. At one point, on my hike, I felt his presence, with me in spirit.

2015 Molly Doggy

On 11/21/2015, Saturday, the anniversary of Papaw Ferrell’s passing, I drove my ’95 Nissan pickup (the one that died, on 3/29/2016, saving my life), to get and bring home our Molly doggy! The weather was perfect – cool enough for a sweatshirt, unlike 11/21/2020.

Molly doggy is a wonderful “old puppy,” as I call her. I’ve known several great doggies over the years. In chronological order, there was Bandit (aka Bandito), Wendy, and Buddy. Those three were connected to my roots in Rogersville.

I might post a latest photo of Molly in time. She has a unique personality. She understands my English well enough. I understand her Doggy language well enough. Molly always stays inside with us a few hours in the evening. Her bedroom is the lower level doggy complex. She is a daytime, outside, doggy! (Well, if it’s rainy or very cold, she has her lower level doggy complex, which is heated and cooled, by means of doggy door access!) Molly, the last two evenings, wanted to go outside about three of four times, to check out the other dogs that were barking around us, etc. I went outside with her each time. She needed to “take a leak.” She wanted me to “take a leak” also. I did. It was dark. No one saw me, except Molly, who granted me a respectful distance. Molly looks at me. I know what she is saying. I wish I could take her hiking with me. Alone, with Molly, I could do fine, on the hike up. The hike down, with Molly, on a leash, might not work out too well still yet. I have to be more of a “lame mountain goat” going down than going up. If Molly smelled something and started pulling the leash, while going down, I might not be able to hold balance and control.

I wonder if Papaw Ferrell, Bandit, Wendy, Buddy, Molly, and I will enjoy everlasting and joyful experiences in the heavenly woods together. I speculate, by faith, that heaven will have that type of opportunities, along with many, many others. There will be no leash in heaven, no leash, no leash up there.

Hey, y’all, why don’t you join us, in heavenly hiking! If I don’t see you here, I will see you there!

2016 New Ol' Truck

On Monday, 11/21/2016 (the anniversary of Papaw Ferrell’s passing), I drove our ’08 Honda Civic to the location where my soon-to-be new, ol' truck was for sale. My “bionic” joints were “talking” to me quite intensely that day. I remember. After the routine test drive, inspection, and dickering, I paid the deposit to hold my ’06 Nissan Frontier, until we could get him.

Mom’s birthday anniversary (1932 born) was Thanksgiving Day that year (11/24/2016). The next day, on Friday, 11/25/2016, I drove our car, with Mrs. Appalachian Irishman riding shotgun. We paid the balance for my new, ol' truck. I drove him back to the “barn” (i.e., garage).

My new, ol' truck still likes to have his photo taken. Read on!

2020 House Mt. #174

What else could I do? My barber can wait. Tractor Supply trip can wait. Mrs. Appalachian Irishman had her every-two-month, high dollar, and two-hour “haircut” appointment (9 – 11 AM). The weather was nice enough. It was still too warm, but it was sunny, with a few clouds that indicate rain is coming in a day. House Mountain Hike #174 is in my hiking log and in my memory!

Okay, it’s 6 PM on the dot, 11/21/2020, Saturday. I’ll write more and post later. I’m hungry! Let’s stop to eat!

11/22/2020, Sunday, at 4:57 PM, I now continue writing. The above photo is after I’d hiked up the west trail to the bluff. The photo is looking east, along the north ridgeline. The white marker indicates 0.8 miles. (The distance is 0.9 miles to the west bluff. I know. The mountain didn’t shrink.) Do you see my “selfie” image of my head?

I’m glad that I hiked in a T-shirt only. When will it turn cool?

I enjoyed time alone, or with a few other hikers, but not too many, at the west bluff. My thoughts ran deeply. I unloaded my “Corona Myopia Psychosis” that had been building up. I started hiking back down the same trail I’d hiked up.

The above photo is one location on the trail. Do you see the petrified tree trunk jutting out to the right of my shadow? That is the tree trunk that I call “Defiance.” I’ve seen it, unchanged, for many years. I always touch it. It had grown, from the base of the rock ledge above it, and fallen, years before I started hiking the mountain. The hike down at this spot takes caution, along with at least three other locations farther down.

Who was that shadow, standing to the left of my shadow, with his arms by his side? Was that you, Papaw Ferrell?

Near the end of the hike down and out, I passed a group of three younger folks, hiking up. Two had their hiking masks on. One did not, until he saw me, coming down the trail, hiking maskless. He donned his mask quickly. As I past him, I stated loudly, “I don’t have the Corony!” He said nothing. I hope he learned.

I had to “hike” an extra three tenths of a mile each way, to the off the road location where I had to park my truck. (Yes, the upper parking lot was full.) My new, ol' truck enjoyed our day – remembering Papaw Ferrell, the day Molly came to us, the day I saw him, and today. Oh, I placed my 2021 tag sticker (annual expiration in December) on my truck the same day.


I know you are eager to find out. “What is Corona Myopia Psychosis, you ask?” Well, I’ll tell you.

“Corona Myopia Psychosis” is a state of mind that could include anxiety, frustration, depression, mood swings, anger, the inordinate use of colorful language, talking with one’s self, an abundance of sarcastic humor, and so forth. We all have the psychosis, in varying degrees. Failure to admit it is a symptom. Lack of honesty about it is a symptom. Obsessing with the new cold virus is a symptom. Aren’t you tired of it? I am.

Mrs. Appalachian Irishman expresses her psychosis by withdrawing inwardly. I deal with my psychosis by my glib Irish tongue, either verbally or in writing, such as now. My best cure for my own psychosis is my hiking. My sarcastic humor helps on a more daily basis, along with the abundance of talking with myself, which includes my occasional use of colorful language that only the Lord and I hear. (He forgives me.)

This once great nation may never return to its status, before this new cold virus started. Of course, the media agenda that drives the racial tension degrades the nation still. The presidential election (vote early and often) propaganda may just drive this nation to its knees, in time. If our nation can reach the socialist “Utopian” bottom, we might be able to return, after decades of pain and suffering, to a great nation status again. If so, it will be after I’ve already joined Papaw Ferrell, and so many others, at Home.

Hey, Papaw and my doggies (Bandit, Wendy, and Buddy), y’all wait on Molly and me! We’ll be heavenly hiking with y’all in time!

Okay, it’s 11/22/2020, Sunday, 5:58 PM, at the time of this writing. I’ve talked with my two younger brothers by phone. I’m hungry. I’ll post this after supper! Let’s eat!

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