In Chapter Thirty-Three, page 273 of Boot: A Sorta Novel of Vietnam, Bill McCloud adroitly applies his poetry to the paradox of Schrödinger's Cat (SC). SC was basically a thought experiment. If you had a box and you told someone there was a cat in the box, then asked is the cat alive or dead? Well, of course, you have a 50/50 chance of answering correctly, but the truth is that the cat is neither alive nor dead until you open the box. This paradox is juxtaposed against the naming of things. Why do parents spend so much time on naming a child? It bestows dignity upon the child. It says you are an individual among the herd, and it will give meaning to the child’s existence later. It also gives meaning to the namer’s existence and becomes a mode of sacramental communion with the world. I loved the irony of this poem because my protagonist is named George Orwell Hill. But even more than the observation that they are both Hills, only different, is the fact that George Orwell was known for all the new words and concepts he named in his novel, 1984.

That hill has a name to

separate it from all the

other hills that have their

own names or no name

It’s just a hill What we

gave it is just a name

But it’s hard to separate

the deaths on that hill

from all the other deaths

on all the other hills

And all the names of all

the dead on all the hills

Bill’s final poem is in the Epilogue on page 315 and concludes the story. Only Bill McCloud could capture so succinctly how much Viet Vets are both prisoners of their experiences and how problematic it has been for those vets to transition back to normality while finding a place in their hearts to honor those they fought with and against. The Vietnam War cast a giant shadow over our country. The least desirable characteristics of our country made themselves manifest during this time of self-exploration and social upheaval in America. The shadow that the Vietnam War cast is one that we should continue to examine and understand.

As they walked away people

would nod at them as if

they knew But the

farther they walked the

fewer nods they received

until they were out of the

shadow of that long wall

Until Next Time,

I Remain,

Just an old Zororastafarian buckaroo finally understanding why I don’t want a Coronavirus test…