Sometimes, novelists and poets, even the great ones, or maybe especially the great ones, conduct their own lives in bewildering ways (in Ernest’s case -a ‘thinly controlled alcoholism’, which led to liver problems, weight issues, diabetes, depression and eventually suicide), and then turn around and give piss-poor advice on how to conduct your life.
From Wiki-
…..’in the early morning hours of July 2, 1961, Hemingway (who disparaged retirement in the quote above) “quite deliberately” shot himself with his favorite shotgun. He unlocked the basement storeroom where his guns were kept, went upstairs to the front entrance foyer of their Ketchum home, and “pushed two shells into the twelve-gauge Boss shotgun …put the end of the barrel into his mouth, pulled the trigger and blew out his brains’
Let us examine Ernest’s life (also gleaned from Wikipedia) – a mortar fire injury to his leg in WW I, a car accident, 2 plane crashes, and a bush fire, the combinations of which that left him with 2nd degree burns, a smashed knee, two cracked discs, a kidney and liver rupture, a dislocated shoulder and a broken skull. Prior to that he he had a skylight crash on his head when he pulled on a chain thinking that it was the flush to the toilet. Add to that health issues – diabetes, pneumonia (during WW II), hypertension, excruciating headaches, liver disease, arteriosclerosis and depression. He also suffered from hemochromatosis, in which the inability to metabolize iron culminates in mental and physical deterioration. Did I mention the 2 divorces?
Sometimes, novelists and poets, even the great ones, or maybe especially the great ones, conduct their own lives in bewildering ways (in Ernest’s case -a ‘thinly controlled alcoholism’, which led to liver problems, weight issues, diabetes, depression and eventually suicide), and then turn around and give piss-poor advice on how to conduct your life.
From Wiki-
…..’in the early morning hours of July 2, 1961, Hemingway (who disparaged retirement in the quote above) “quite deliberately” shot himself with his favorite shotgun. He unlocked the basement storeroom where his guns were kept, went upstairs to the front entrance foyer of their Ketchum home, and “pushed two shells into the twelve-gauge Boss shotgun …put the end of the barrel into his mouth, pulled the trigger and blew out his brains’
Had he retired yet?
He had unofficially retired about 6 months earlier.
He should have retired a whole lot earlier-
Let us examine Ernest’s life (also gleaned from Wikipedia) – a mortar fire injury to his leg in WW I, a car accident, 2 plane crashes, and a bush fire, the combinations of which that left him with 2nd degree burns, a smashed knee, two cracked discs, a kidney and liver rupture, a dislocated shoulder and a broken skull. Prior to that he he had a skylight crash on his head when he pulled on a chain thinking that it was the flush to the toilet. Add to that health issues – diabetes, pneumonia (during WW II), hypertension, excruciating headaches, liver disease, arteriosclerosis and depression. He also suffered from hemochromatosis, in which the inability to metabolize iron culminates in mental and physical deterioration. Did I mention the 2 divorces?
Booman, I think I get the message… avoid being like Hemingway. I will resolve, and so should you, to write less and run more. See you on the trail! 🙂