Thank you Mr. Hemingway

We will be discussing A MOVEABLE FEAST by Ernest Hemingway for book club, "Readers in the Rough" later in September. It has been since college that I read and understood as only a twenty-year-old could the meaning of THE OLD MAN AND THE SEA, and A CALL TO ARMS. I said good-bye to Hemingway in 1968. 

Tonight I read the introduction to A MOVEABLE FEAST and my mind traveled through a web of stories and words that clutter my everyday movements.

"There was a great deal of material that Hemingway wrote for A MOVEABLE FEAST that he decided to leave out, acting 'by the old rule that how good a book is should be judged by the man who writes it  by the excellence of the material that he eliminates.' " (From the Introduction by Sean Hemingway.)

In my history blog about my hometown country club and home for the formative years of my life that taught me through storytelling and observation how to venture though life. Event after event in the old newspapers I've been reading from 1916--1975 seems important to me, or at least to someone who might read the blog. It is extremely difficult to delete pieces of history that I personally think everyone wants to read. After reading Hemingway's words, I put my book down and came inside to delete more from my 1958 MGCC TIMELINE

This is the article I included and deleted from my 1958 sequence of the Miami Golf and Country club: 

1958 October 12  "The Fickle Public: Public Servants Not Given Chance: by Frances Baker

It has been said that Americans expect perfection from their preachers and politicians. It is true that one slip and often a public figure's name is mud. Mr. Average Citizen can be pretty narrow minded and demanding of his public servants.

He is not my political party, but I can only admire President Eisenhower for standing by Sherman Adams, a friend. It has become customary to denounce a friend if he fails to live up to your expectations. It is human to expect unselfish devotion of the the men we put in public office, but it is a sad commentary on our American way that we are all so quick to grab the first hint of muck-racking minority and wallow it around into a juicy tidbit of a scandal to bring public disgrace perhaps over one mistake in a weak moment. 

Years ago mothers dreamed that their sons might one day be president or at least governor. Our continual, harping criticism of public figures and our willingness to believe the worst about them dishonors our proud democratic American way of life....

Child reading in front of the Miami Public Library

Personal Note: Frances was a well-known writer for Ottawa County and a frequent visitor of the Miami Public Library while I worked there from 1972-74. She was one of the many women I came to respect and regard highly for her standards and skills. I thought it appropriate to share part of this article.

After reading Frances' column on politics, I asked myself, have I lived so long that I'm watching history repeat itself over and over; do we really not learn from history?

Thank you Hemingway. This had no place in the golf history, but apparently it struck a cord with me. I could easily digress into political thoughts, but my heart has other paths to travel. This one led me to my old acquaintance, Frances Baker and a few insights into our lives yesterday and today.

Frances' columns appeared in the Miami News-Record from the late 1950's to 1977. The internet was not an option for her research. The public library was a second home for her. In my quick research of her words I found this tidbit:

  "Wanted--Magazines for research. Will pick up. Frances Baker Boswell--

dial 674-2216."  

 *Miami News Record January 27, 1977.

More than anything, what struck me most about Frances Baker's  "Personally" column in the Miami News Record is that her stories came from the heart. In one column the problem seem to stem with husbands who didn't help their wives in more ways than household chores. 

Frances had her head stuck under the kitchen sink, repairing a leak when her neighbor walked in. Frances finished her task and set about a cup of coffee for the two of them to share. Both women were accomplished (not licensed) plumbers, electricians, roofers, gardeners, wall paper hangers, cooks, fisherwomen who did not understand why their husbands couldn't do those jobs. After the neighbor chatted with Frances about her worries and troubles, Frances responded, "You're kidding. Don't worry about a man like that who isn't worth five minutes of your valuable time. There's other men you know."

Silent for a moment, they both giggled until they hurt. After sharing a personal story of her husband's death, Frances went on to say, "I told my friend that there are limits to everyone's ability to be what those we love expect of us. For life would be dismal indeed if we did not dream of complete understanding with those we love." **

Frances Baker
1911-1079
Quapaw, Ok.

Dear Frances, thank you for your long lost words.  I needed that reminder this
evening. This last week I've wondered how my husband and I, who love each other with full and giving hearts, can be so different and so uncommunicative with each other. Sadly, our lack of communication can hurt each other deeply.  Then I realized that I am dreaming of complete understanding, and that may not happen in this lifetime with my husband nor our children. 

Somehow this evening I stumbled from Hemingway's words to Frances Baker's words; from 1920 in Paris to 1975 in Quapaw, Oklahoma. Now here it is the 2020's in Norman, Oklahoma and at age seventy-four I am still searching for answers and understanding to marriage and children, not so different from Hemingway or Baker. 

As Grandma Baker said, "when a couple gets married they both expect to find a 'flitter tree and a honey pone,' meaning hot cakes and honey all the way." It seldom works that way. Thank you Frances Baker Boswell. 

* *Miami News Record March 2, 1975.

Murphy Doodle's Fun Run

today I galloped across the prairie without a lease, i am still pretending to be a buffalo

waiting on letty to catch up

letty said i could run free without the lease because i new how to old bay, i think old bay is good because i bay on the day when the loud si run blows and letty rubs my ears

i did not run very far today like i do when there are clouds over the sun, i ran to the shade tree until letty caught up, then i ran to the next shade tree and rolled in the cool grass, she gave me hot water to drink but i did not complain, it tasted good,

after three good runs we came to a lot of shade trees and she let me play on my own and smell the animals, she laughed at me and said it looked like i was smelling the flowers,

i wish she could understand what i smell, i think if i use my nose i can tell her when another dog has been here because it smells musky and i could tell her she needs to run away from danger if i smell something fright full

if i smelled danger i would run and she would chase me, then we would both be safe but today i just kept leaping from shade to shade chasing flying critters and bugs, i even catch flies at home and jack always says GOOD MURPHY, 

nose down and sniffing

we sat down and both had a drink of water, she said her water was hot too, we heard a noise, she looked around and pointed at the clouds nearby, she called thunder and we decided to walk back to the car, but along the way i smelled something fusty, that made me so happy that i rolled and rolled in the fusky filthy grass  

letty had walked on to the next shade tree to wait on me, so i kept exploring and rolling the brown grasses, it felt so good until i noticed that letty was not in the shade, oh no no no i barked, she showed up, she was teasing me by hiding

i ran lickety split up to her and around her and the trees like a galloping pony, suddenly she started yelling at me that i smelled RANK, RIPE, REEKING OF A PUTRID ANIMAL, yippee i barked, i smell fresh and like a buffalo,

when she said murphy sit i stopped running and sat in the sun, i was so hot and tired that my tongue was hanging out, she put water in the red bowl away from me in the shade and i walked over there to drink it up, i laid down to drink the water and stretched out on the grass

she just stood there watching me shaking her head back and forth, she even put her hands on her hips and looked mad, i rolled over on my belly

should i come or should i go

after a long time for her to think she said in a mean tone, murphy you walk by me now, we walked together back to the car, i did not have to wear the lease because i was a good dog, on the way back i got to thinking maybe i was not a good dog because he did not rub my belly

at the car i just wanted to jump in and be cool but she made me wait until she found my old towels to put on the seat, i jumped in and the car was cool, 

on the way home she kept asking me what i rolled in, i hung my head because i new she wouldn't understand that it was important for me to roll in dead animals bodies 

when we stopped the car in the garage she opened all of the doors for me, and that was confusing, i picked one and ran to the door but it would not open, i had to go around back and stay

i guess you now how my story ended

it ended in a bath, a long soapy in my eyes and ears bath, but letty is happy now