No-comparison comparison between Hemingway and me

The beard I grew during COVID isolation and the recent Ken Burns and Lynn Novick documentary series on Ernest Hemingway led to some thinking about similarities and differences, and how some things outweigh others.

We each started our career journeys as nearsighted journalists writing for our high school newspapers and graduating to the grind of daily deadlines.

At 18 he left The Kansas City Star for Europe, where he drove ambulances for the Red Cross in Italy. At 19 my early reporting made it to NPR, which was then a new network.

I worked briefly for the Associated Press in Washington, D.C. He wrote extensively for the North American Newspaper Alliance.

He quickly embraced writing short stories, novels and nonfiction as an eyewitness to war, romance and bullfighting. I slowly shifted from broadcast news to marketing technology to public relations.

He wrote best-sellers that became motion pictures. I wrote grants that funded social media interviews.

He won Nobel and Pulitzer Prizes. I won a bicycle in a coloring contest and a couple of journalism scholarships.

He shot big game in Africa. I shot video on my smartphone.

He forever changed the landscape of writing. I changed the landscape of my backyard.

He married four times, fathered three sons and had 12 grandchildren. I married once, fathered three daughters and two sons and have 17 grandchildren.

We faced the dual demons of anxiety and depression and coped with various liquids. He drank and captained his 38-foot fishing boat. I found solace swimming laps in a 50-meter pool and bingeing content on liquid crystal displays. Briefly we both enjoyed water polo.

He suffered multiple traumatic brain injuries as a war correspondent, outdoorsman and frequent world traveler. I suffered multiple minor wounds as a mountain biker and novice triathlete in northern Utah.

He had access to many prescribed and borrowed pharmaceuticals. He underwent multiple rounds of electroconvulsive therapy at the Mayo Clinic. I underwent decades of counseling and have access to pharmaceuticals and geriatric expertise unknown in his lifetime.

He died from suicide at age 61. I lived to write these words on my 67th birthday in late May, which coincidentally is Mental Health Awareness Month.

He is a legend. I wear a mass-market hoodie that says, “Grandpa: the man, the myth, the legend.”

I’m no Hemingway. He’s no Finlinson. Still, should we meet at some hereafter watering hole, I think our similarities and differences would lead to a fine conversation.

He may not agree.

Background Q & A

Q: Comparing yourself to a legendary author probably isn't the best mental health practice, particularly in the midst of an ongoing pandemic when depression and anxiety are so widespread. Were you aware of the risks?

A: You're right. If you're seriously comparing yourself to a famous public figure, you might conclude that you would never measure up and that could be discouraging, but this comparison wasn't quite so serious. For me it was an affirming exercise and I enjoyed having some fun with it.

Q: I did laugh at you winning a bike in a coloring contest vs. his wins of Nobel and Pulitzer Prizes. What's the background on your big win?

A: As an 8-year-old, I didn't know it, but my parents were mortgage poor. They both had good jobs but monthly payments on our new home, didn't leave much room for non-essentials. I wanted a shiny new bike, but I didn't get one for Christmas or for my birthday. Knowing of my disappointment, mom spotted a local coloring contest and suggested I enter it. A few months later I became the proud winner of a large red Schwinn two speed.

Q: It appears that the bike was way too big for you. Weren’t your parents concerned about your safety?

A: I doubt it. This was the sixties. No one wore bike helmets. My dad grew up on a cattle ranch. He was riding horses much taller than my bike when he was a boy. If mom and dad were worried that the bike was too big and unsafe to ride, they didn't share that with me. They knew I'd grow into it. My parents are both deceased now but their influence remains strong. In fact, I'm still entering contests all these decades later.

Note: This story, without the Q & A, was originally published as an OpEd in The Salt Lake Tribune, May 29, 2021.