The jester philosopher speaks, and just in time

Fortunately, with the busy holiday season here and some of us already feeling the strain, there’s at least one person who makes it his business to worry about ours.

“Don’t be sad, be satisfied

Don’t be angry, be awesome

Don’t be mean, dream “

This simple fodder comes from a man I’ll call the jester philosopher of Siesta Key, Florida, who likes to set humanity straight, even if he’s not so straight himself, based on his breath which mingled with mine a few days back.

We collided in the drum circle that takes place Sunday nights as musicians, dancers, exhibitionists and us duller folks gather on what’s named the number 1 beach in America for a couple of hours of abandon.

On any other surface but the talcum powder sand of Siesta, the jester’s behavior could result in a police complaint; I couldn’t get away from him for all the pennies hidden under the sand that beach bums were combing with their metal wands.

The jester didn’t have a wand, he had a pinwheel that spun as he spewed frenzied droplets in the surrounding air. His 60-something head was adorned with the many-pointed cap made popular in medieval times. His gray hair and beard were long. His faded tie-dye jumpsuit was fully filled in the belly. His face was an inch from mine; I worried he’d give me the flu .“

Every day is all about you,” spouted the jester, “because there’s an ‘I’ in every day, I-magination.” Then he frolicked away, a faint ha-ha-ha trilling in the air behind him.

But he didn’t romp away for long; he glopped on me like seaweed. When I remembered the ravings of the jester, the joker, the buffoon were once thought to be divinely sent, I thought I’d better listen.

“You’re not older you know,” he leaned in to whisper, comparing me to the nubile nymphs nearby. “You’re earlier.”

Earlier, I had to admit, sounded better.

I tested it out in my mouth to see if I’d be able to pull it off on Thanksgiving, my favorite holiday but one that tests my perfectionism: “I’m earlier than you, you’re later than me,” I imagined saying to some full-ofthemselves young relatives, then frolicking away -- ha-ha-ha.

Jesters have been around since ancient times and became popular in the Middle Ages when they famously worked for kings providing a dose of entertainment to some otherwise intense affairs.

What’s more intense than a family gathering? The jester twirled, I twirled with him.

“If you rhyme, you feel sublime,” I offered, joining in the

spirit of the moment. He shot back, “Every day’s a holiday,” which is as original as golf courses in Florida, but under the stars sounded like a revelation, reminding me the opportunities for joy don’t need to be squeezed into a few festive events.

I thought of Shakespeare who used the jester in his plays: “A fool thinks himself to be wise, but a wise man knows himself to be a fool.”

Who was the fool here? Was it me for already over-thinking the holidays, for wanting to be all places at once, for not being able to say no?

My jester continued: “Even on a bad day, you can always eat your favorite cereal.”

He read my mind. Even if the first holiday of the season fell short of expectations, even if there was family drama or sheer exhaustion, there would still be that crunchy bowl of the everyday waiting on the other end.

Familiar, comfortable, easy. My inner fool smiled. Donna Debs is a longtime freelance writer, a former radio news reporter, and a certified Iyengar yoga teacher. She lives in Tredyffrin. Email her at ddebs@comcast.net.