Papa Hemingway in Cuba

1

In the way of things,

fathers are by tradition in compassion

supposed to leave their sons

at least a little legacy

of wisdom to help them get through life.

But I don't remember my father

ever saying anything memorable.

Except those seven words

he said that Christmas season,

when I was four years old.

Wait here, son.

I'll be right back.

I grew up an orphan,

like many other children

abandoned during the Depression.

And as a young boy, I ran off

to pursue my dream of becoming a writer.

It was that dream that gave me hope

during those dark years.

That, and a bigger-than-life writer

and adventurer...

By the name of Ernest Hemingway.

Many years later, I was working

as a reporter at The Miami Globe.

I had written Hemingway a letter,

but I couldn't get it right.

It had to be perfect.

Heartfelt and genuine.

What do you say to the man

that changed your life...

And never even knew you?

I needed to tell him

how much he had meant to me.

Copy!

Scotch, rocks.

How's it going, Jimmy?

Don't ever get married, Eddie.

Did you get into another fight with Maxine?

Yep, she was so pissed off

she ripped all the wires out

from under the dash of my new Chevy.

Wow!

The things we put up with

just for that micro-second of ecstasy.

A man should never marry.

Yeah, don't worry,

it's my goal in life not to.

- I got to go, Eddie.

- All right.

I was due home hours ago.

Adis!

Deb, what are you doing?

This is a beautiful letter.

Well, look at you, the Nosey Nancy.

Do you always read other people's mail?

No, I saw the address on the envelope.

"Ernest M. Hemingway.

"Finca Vigia, San Francisco de Paula, Cuba."

Okay, I know what it says.

"You gave me hope

when I thought there was none left.

"In my darkest moments, you were my friend."

Deb, that's a personal letter.

If I got this letter,

I'd fall in love with you instantly.

Well, it wasn't addressed to you.

You're just afraid to send it, aren't you?

Okay, I'm...

I'm not afraid to send the letter.

That's too bad.

It's none of your business,

I mean, it's a personal letter.

You're a Nosey Nancy, too.

City desk, Myers.

This is Ernest Hemingway.

Oh, really? This is Ernest Hemingway?

I got your letter.

Hello?

Hello?

- Uh... Yes, sir.

- And it's a good letter.

Well, thank you.

I've read it about 10 times.

Mr. Hemingway,

your work has meant so much to me...

I, uh...

My whole career is...

I don't think you're old enough

to have a whole career yet, kid.

I've been reading your stuff in The Globe,

you have a tendency to underwrite.

- Which is good.

- Well, thank you.

- You covered the Korean War?

- Uh...

Are you really talking to Ernest Hemingway?

I... Yeah, from 1951 to '52, yeah.

Yeah, that's what I did.

An honorable profession if you do it right.

Yes, sir. Yes, sir.

"Sir" not necessary.

You can call me Papa, everybody does.

- Okay.

- Like you said in the letter...

I'm your friend.

It's a good letter, kid.

You like to sh?

I don't know the first thing about fishing.

I've never been fishing.

I don't even know what to wear.

- What do you wear on a boat?

- A hat.

Okay, I don't want to wear the hat.

Why? It's a great hat.

- I don't want to wear a hat.

- It's a great hat.

It is a great hat.

Did you get this hat for me?

Yes, I got you the hat.

It's going to block the sun.

Thank you for sending the letter.

You're welcome.

Hola.

Good morning.

Whoo!

- Ed Myers.

- Gregorio.

Mucho gusto.

Okay.

Flight okay?

They fed me rum daiquiris on the plane,

I'm half bombed.

Not a bad way to start the day, huh?

Come on.

Let's go find you a fish.

Now, watch the tip of your rod.

When it goes up,

then you can get some line back.

Easy.

That's it.

Feels like a f***ing whale.

Nah, it's a tuna, a little one.

Ah! Now. Now, he's turned around.

Now you can get some line back.

You've got to ease the rod back.

If you jerk the rod like that,

something's got to give.

Usually, it's his face.

Ah, cheer up, kid.

No virgin does it right the first time.

It's a good day, you'll get another chance.

And up! Here we go! Reel it in!

Here we go. Easy.

And up! Reel!

Oh, she's a beauty! Look at her!

Beautiful!

Keep working.

Now you're fishing, kid. Now you're fishing!

Okay, okay. Now reverse the engine.

- Turn the wheel a little.

- You know, I think you better do this.

Look, kid.

The only value we have as human beings

are the risks we're willing to take.

Now, f*** it. Dock her.

That's it now. Easy. Ease in.

All right. Now put her in reverse.

That's it.

- Nice job.

- Thank you.

You could turn off the engine anytime.

Oh, right.

Ah, what the hell, kid.

You know all this, I talk too much.

- Boring.

- I wouldn't say you're boring.

I'm just so f***ing shy.

You're among friends here.

It's the power of less.

Pick a number

between one and ten.

Six.

Complete short story.

Six words.

"For sale, baby shoes, never worn."

Seor Hemingway?

- Ah...

- Please.

- You're quite a pretty young lady.

- Thank you.

- Excuse me?

- Okay.

Can I get one as well?

Yes.

I couldn't find your sugar.

I read an AP article that said he's

the biggest tourist attraction in Cuba.

It said thousands of tourists

come from all over the world

just to get a glimpse of him.

Yeah, I've never seen anything like it.

He draws a crowd wherever he goes.

Thank you.

The only place he gets

any real privacy is at sea.

Must be awful to be that famous.

What's his wife like?

Oh, I haven't met her yet,

I'm supposed to meet her this weekend.

Oh, this weekend? I got the weekend off.

I was hoping maybe we could go to the Keys.

Well, they've invited me to the Finca.

It's their house.

I'm gonna go to their house.

Oh, wow! That's great.

- Yeah.

- We'll go another time.

God.

Gracias.

Papa working.

Miss Mary swimming.

Oh!

Oh, hello.

You must be the kid.

Uh, yeah. I guess I am.

Edmund, isn't it?

Eddie.

Hello. I'm Mary Hemingway.

Yeah, I know.

Hi.

Ah, Papa showed me your stories.

You write very well.

We're both impressed.

Thank you.

I didn't embarrass you, did I?

No, no, no. No, no.

How God made me.

My perfect pocket Rubens.

Why, thank you, kind sir.

We do have a generally

good alliance, don't we?

Based upon your great beauty

and the wondrous blondness of your hair.

Deeply rooted in his system of values,

Papa has a secret mysticism

about blonde hair.

You'd be ecstatic in a world of

female dandelions, wouldn't you, love?

Sure.

Come and have a drink.

I confess it is artificial.

It used to be a color people call titian.

But I liked to call it a nice, peanut brown.

Oh, Papa. I do believe

we've embarrassed the kid.

He'll get used to it.

I was just an ignorant bum who read a lot

at libraries to stay out of the rain.

You know, mostly

day labor jobs and flophouses.

And then, after years of hustling,

I finally managed

to weasel my way into

a job on the sports desk

of a local paper in northern California,

which was a dream,

it's just, the only problem was,

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