(Portrait painted by Peter Engels)

Everybody at one time or another hears a song and it repeats in their head throughout the day.

I experienced the same phenomenon, yet it was a piece of writing that took to me.

Yesterday morning in the bathroom I read Hemingway’s short story, THE END OF SOMETHING. Its words and meaning have been with me ever since, sitting right above my stomach.

Man was that guy good. He was real good.

(Hemingway fishing with son, 1935)

I read the story twice. The second time was to make sure I didn’t miss anything.

It reads so simple and effortlessly, tugging the reader along, yet it’s not until the very end that suddenly all the lights and feelers go on inside as you realize how it was actually brilliant in its entirety. The story stays with you . . .

I’m handling a glass Hemingway-paperweight. Inside is a stamp with his face, and below it reads “Good writing is true writing.”

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