"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. It's my right side. No, it's 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 his closest non-veteran family and friends, do not understand him fully. He understands himself fully. His loud communication, about his self-understanding, 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, has taken the Good Lord’s free gift offer. He thinks, with the everlasting mindset. He does not care much, for this space-time continuum. He knows that he is a speck of dust, on a larger speck of dust, in a vast and temporal universe, which is not everlasting.

By the way, I just left voice mail, on my veteran brother’s phone. He might call back. [11/12/2019, next day, update: my brother called back today. He'd been quite busy yesterday. We enjoyed a good, long phone conversation today.]

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. They are based on my life, after having acquired “bionic” body parts (left shoulder, right knee, and right foot). I had a life, in a pre-bionic body. I am living an ongoing bionic life now. (To understand my use of “bionic,” please see the 8/26/2016 article, which is the first, under the topic section, “My Bionic Life - since 3/29/2016.”)

The acquisition of bionic joints has deepened my thoughts, on everlastingness. Before, I had assumed that my thoughts were deep. They were, but not as deep as now. (Dig a little deeper in the well, boys!)

The catalyst, behind this article, is twofold. First, on a work day, last Wednesday, a colleague -- working from home and on speaker phone, during the usual Wednesday meeting that wastes our time -- asked, “How is everyone?” My reply was, “I am surviving.” My meaning was that I am enduring a work week, with my three stiff and sore bionic joints, again, as usual. Her response was, “it’s better than being six feet under.” The others -- present physically, in the meeting, as I was -- laughed and agreed. I shook my head in silence. My thought was, “Take me home, Lord! I'm very stiff and sore today! I’d rather have this body six feet under and be, in my soul, with many others and You! I will get this body back, glorified, later!” Of course, I was thinking perfectly loud, while keeping perfectly quiet, as the “fool on the hill.”

The second catalyst was on Saturday, 11/9/2019. I was hauling off trash, as usual. Mrs. Appalachian Irishman, by the way, was doing her usual Dollar General Store and IGA shopping, followed by her visit, to her father. While hauling trash, I heard, on my ol' truck’s radio, the Beatles' song, “The Fool on the Hill.” Hey, that was great! Various stations play their standard song rotations, but the station, to which I'd happened to be listening, played a good song, at the right time!

During the song, I thought back to last 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 the hill” does not concern himself much, with the here and now. You know. The here and now are the usual: the work policy wonk and psychobabble, the local, national, and international news, the weather alert days, sports news, my hiking, visits with family and friends, my every four-week deep tissue massage, followed by my every four-week chiropractic adjustment, and so forth. It's life, such as it is, going on.

Oh, yes, I am about as tired of it, as you may be, dear reader! I apologize, if the last paragraph made you feel tired.

Despite what I've written, thus far, 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!” Always, there will be will, in my spirit, even when my spirit leaves this body. As long as my spirit is in this body, and as long as I have power in my body (busted up, such as I am), then I will endure to the end, of my temporal existence, to be taken Home!

When are you coming back, Lord? When will be my turn, to go Home, if You don’t come before? Silence, again, as usual.

Yesterday was my 161st hike, on House Mountain, on our niece's birthday, as the 11/10/2019 article describes. Afterward, 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 4/16/2019. It takes me a few months, about seven, in this example, to get something done now. I’m slowed, by my three bionic joints. Believe it or not, the rigors of hiking actually help those joints.

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?