Ernest Hemingway's Brick
A visit to Ernest Hemingway's home in Key West, Florida, was an insightful and entertaining travel experience. The house and grounds were crawling with cats and kittens, descendents (so they said) from Papa's polydactyl pets. They scampered and draped themselves about, kings and queens of the compound. Hemingway's high desk, where he used to write, standing, made me wonder if the upright position improved his thinking, serving as a counter to the alcohol.
The historical society administering the property at the time (early 1970's) sold bricks that had actually surrounded Hemingway's swimming pool. I bought a good one, engraved on one side with the words "Baltimore Block" and bearing remains of the mortar that had once held it in place. This was early in my writing career. The then-husband asked me why I wanted a brick. "For inspiration!" I enthused. Hemingway was one of my favorite writers then.
"What're you going to do, sit on it?"
Occasionally the brick has served as a doorstop, but its usual spot is under my feet, helping to balance me as I perch on the steno chair I use when computing, keeping me in an ergonomically proper posture to prevent "cumulative trauma disorder" as the physical medicine people call it. The brick is much too heavy to be a paperweight, and I've never imagined any other use. I feel it keeps me grounded as well as balanced. There's little Hemingway in my writing, and I could not have lived the life he did, but I enjoy having a little Hemingway in my life. It inspires me.
The historical society administering the property at the time (early 1970's) sold bricks that had actually surrounded Hemingway's swimming pool. I bought a good one, engraved on one side with the words "Baltimore Block" and bearing remains of the mortar that had once held it in place. This was early in my writing career. The then-husband asked me why I wanted a brick. "For inspiration!" I enthused. Hemingway was one of my favorite writers then.
"What're you going to do, sit on it?"
Occasionally the brick has served as a doorstop, but its usual spot is under my feet, helping to balance me as I perch on the steno chair I use when computing, keeping me in an ergonomically proper posture to prevent "cumulative trauma disorder" as the physical medicine people call it. The brick is much too heavy to be a paperweight, and I've never imagined any other use. I feel it keeps me grounded as well as balanced. There's little Hemingway in my writing, and I could not have lived the life he did, but I enjoy having a little Hemingway in my life. It inspires me.
posted by Georganna Hancock M.S. | 9:41 AM
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