My relationship with dear old Ernest is faring better of late. We used to abhor each other. Well, to be honest it was mostly a one sided hate. I despised him. He didn't seem to know I existed, and I hated that too.
Just his name would set me off for hours. My opinion of him was so low that I told everyone I met to avoid him. I regret that not a little now.
It was only after I started to get to know him through the eyes of others that I started to feel an interest awaken in me. Who was he, my archnemesis? Where did he come from and what was he trying to say? What demons of the bottle did he fight and what hell had he discovered in war?
I learned that he even loved cats.
So Hemingway, I apologize for all of the terrible things I said about you. I'll make it up to you by reading your books and taking some chances on adventure. It seems like that's what you would have wanted.
