Good wishes from a clean well lighted place in...Dallas. My goodness the
airport is big. Having packed only untried books I felt that panic which comes
on when you've nothing good to read. stopped employees who were carrying
newspapers, thinking they might be readers. Could they direct me to a
bookstore? Haven't got one. Not believing them, I asked someone else. No, there
isn't one. Still not believing, I pushed on. FYI it's called Simply Books.
Clean and well lit.
David Ritchie
Dow
Sent from my iPad
On Jun 24, 2015, at 4:52 PM, Lawrence Helm <lawrencehelm@xxxxxxxxxxxxxx>
wrote:
From Hemingway's short store, "A Clean Well lighted place":
"He's drunk now," he said.
"He's drunk every night."
"What did he want to kill himself for?"
"How should I know."
"How did he do it?"
"He hung himself with a rope."
"Who cut him down?"
"His niece."
"Why did they do it?"
"Fear for his soul."
"How much money has he got?" "He's got plenty."
"He must be eighty years old."
"Anyway I should say he was eighty."
"I wish he would go home. I never get to bed before three o'clock. What kind
of hour is that to go to bed?"
"He stays up because he likes it."
"He's lonely. I'm not lonely. I have a wife waiting in bed for me."
"He had a wife once too."
"A wife would be no good to him now."
"You can't tell. He might be better with a wife."
"His niece looks after him. You said she cut him down."
"I know." "I wouldn't want to be that old. An old man is a nasty thing."
"Not always. This old man is clean. He drinks without spilling. Even now,
drunk. Look at him."
"I don't want to look at him. I wish he would go home. He has no regard for
those who must work."
. . .
"Another," said the old man.
"No. Finished." The waiter wiped the edge of the table with a towel and shook
his head.
The old man stood up, slowly counted the saucers, took a leather coin purse
from his pocket and paid for the drinks, leaving half a peseta tip. The
waiter watched him go down the street, a very old man walking unsteadily but
with dignity."
Comment:
I'm now sitting at a table about the size of a table I set at near the El
Mirador hospital in Palm Springs. It was in a Starbucks, sort of. That is,
the Starbucks was actually inside the lobby
