CAUGHT IN THE CROSS-HAIRS

Ernest Hemingway in Hospital in Milan Summer of 1918

Dear Ernest,

Sometimes the conditions of the world that surround our birth and life sweep us along in such a way that our future seems out of our control. Sometimes the power of events comes together in a "super cell" event (like a class 5 tornado) where conditions seem to rip through our lives leaving us struggling to make meaning of it, and trying to hold ground and to determine what the path forward is in the raw revelation of the drastically changed landscape of our life.

What I know about you, Hem, is that you are a romantic, an adventurer, a soul who embraces a passion for life that holds stories, and dreams, and "great pals." You are someone who loves the great out of doors in an intimate, playful and comfortable way. You have made yourself an observer of the human condition and a forger of your way through this cultural maze, progressing towards your happiness. Already you have started to misunderstand the objectives and intents of others as you "see" the world differently than most.

The world of Ernest Hemingway, as framed in your letters, is a world where men are men, and women are women. Men are expected to be fighters, and lovers of passion and destiny; and women are a mystery, a conundrum of conflicting thoughts, words, and deeds, whose scent and presence is like a beautiful rose in bloom - pulling you inexorably towards it even as it as it warns you off with it's sharp thorns.

You were born before your time, Ernest, and at the same time you were born too late. You see the world in technicolor and high definition, and yet your world is also a world with traditional boundaries and honor, and camaraderie that belies distance and time. Yes, Ernest, as I think on your early letters, honor and camaraderie are so very important in your life and stories.

So now you lie in a hospital bed in Italy. You are on the slow road to recovery after being wounded in a shell explosion at the Italian front that left over 200 fragments embedded in your body. You lie in a hospital bed in Italy as the war rages in Europe, as your country struggles to support the war effort and morns it's dead, receives back it's wounded, and sends it's sons. The raw events that unfold around you have to weigh on you as you immerse yourself in where you are and what you are about. What you share in your letters from the front poignantly points to the erosive effects of current events on your sense of how the world should be, but the strength of your beliefs continues to shine through, even among your dark moments of disclosure and your brief lapses of faith.

What I am detecting, Hem, at this stage in your life, is that you have made a commitment to a way of seeing and engaging in the world that I suspect will follow you through to the end. As I connect with your choice and come to understand that you have chosen "a path less traveled," I wonder how you will cope with that choice and the related consequences. A life choice such as yours can play out in a number of different ways over time and given the test of reality. How will you deal with the challenges that arise? How will you face those who are critical, judgmental, and doubting of your view and choices? And, ultimately, how will you come to terms with yourself in the light of how the world sees you?

I am looking forward to exploring the answers to these questions in your letters and life to come. 

Wishing you well on your road to recovery.

Your friend,
Betsy