Tag Archives: Hemingway

Endings Prequel: Opening Sentences

by Woody

Last week’s column featuring some memorable ending sentences I have “collected” while browsing bookstores brought numerous requests for a bookend prequel of opening lines that really knock me out, to paraphrase Holden Caulfield.

Speaking of Holden, J.D. Salinger’s “The Catcher in the Rye” has this all-time great introductory line: “If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you’ll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don’t feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth.”

Speaking of “David Copperfield” by Charles Dickens: “Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show.” Also, from his “A Christmas Carol”: “Marley was dead, to begin with.”

“The Satanic Verses” by Salman Rushdie: “ ‘To be born again,’ sang Gibreel Farishta tumbling from the heavens, ‘first you have to die.’ ”

Add death, from “One Hundred Years of Solitude” by Gabriel Garcia Marquez: “Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendía was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice.”

From “Charlotte’s Web” by E.B. White: “ ‘Where’s Papa going with that axe?’ said Fern to her mother as they were setting the table for breakfast.”

Short but not so sweet. “The Color Purple” by Alice Walker: “You better not never tell nobody but God.” In “Beloved” by Toni Morrison: “124 was spiteful.” And “Fahrenheit 451” by Ray Bradbury: “It was a pleasure to burn.”

Bookend numbers of note. “The Lord of the Rings” by J.R.R. Tolkien: “When Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventy-first birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was much talk and excitement in Hobbiton.” And in “1984” by George Orwell: “It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.”

Succinct trio. “I am an invisible man,” from “Invisible Man” by Ralph Ellison. “Slaughterhouse-Five” by Kurt Vonnegut: “All this happened, more or less.” And “Catch-22” by Joseph Heller: “It was love at first sight.”

Poetically from “The Red Badge of Courage” by Stephen Crane: “The cold passed reluctantly from the earth, and the retiring fogs revealed an army stretched out on the hills, resting.”

Speaking of fog, I love this darkly vivid opener from “Fog” by Venturan author Ken McAlpine: “They ran across the sloping deck like marionettes, arms and legs akimbo, and when the waves caught the sailors their arms jerked out, snatching at the night, before they disappeared without a sound.”

Also from the ocean. “Their Eyes Were Watching God” by Zora Neale Hurston: “Ships at a distance have every man’s wish on board.” And from “The Old Man and the Sea” by Ernest Hemingway: “He was an old man who fished alone in a skiff in the Gulf Stream and he had gone eighty-four days now without taking a fish.”

“Peter Pan” by J. M. Barrie: “All children, except one, grow up.”

Lastly, the first line of the first book I remember checking out long before I grew up, “Where The Wild Things Are” by Maurice Sendak: “The night Max wore his wolf suit and made mischief of one kind and another his mother called him ‘WILD THING!’ and Max said ‘I’LL EAT YOU UP!’ so he was sent to bed without eating anything.”

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Woody’s debut novel “The Butterfly Tree: An Extraordinary Saga of Seven Generations” will be published in late March.

Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

Woody writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @woodywoodburn. His SIGNED books are available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.

Sharing a Collection of Last Lines

by Woody

A while back, while browsing a second-hand bookshop, specifically our local treasure Bank of Books – by the way, is any perfume more lovely than the musty-woodsy-vanilla-fresh-rain scent that wafts up from the open pages of an old book?—I came upon a copy of “Anna Karenina.”

I have long meant to tackle this classic tome by Mr. Tolstoy, long being the operative word for it is pushing 600 pages, and on this encounter I simply read the opening sentence—“Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way”—and then flipped to the ending: “My life now, my whole life, regardless of all that may happen to me, every minute of it, is not only not meaningless, as it was before, but has the unquestionable meaning of the good which it is in my power to put into it!”

And so began my habit of wandering through bookstores and partaking of the first and last lines, or paragraphs, of novels—ones I have already read and also those I wish to one day do so in full.

Just for fun, and to give myself the day off from writing my own last line for this column, here are some endings I have jotted down in my collection…

From “Where the Wild Things Are,” the first book I remember checking out of the library as a kid, the last page reads: “and it was still hot.”

“Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows”: “The scar had not pained Harry for 19 years. All was well.”

“The Catcher in the Rye”: “It’s funny. Don’t ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody.”

“A Prayer for Owen Meany”: “Oh God—please give him back! I shall keep asking You.”

“Beloved” concludes powerfully and unforgettably with simply the novel’s title: “Beloved.”

Two more succinct endings are “I’ll pray, and then I’ll sleep” from “Gilead” and “Are there any questions?” from “The Handmaid’s Tale.”

“To Kill a Mockingbird” closes: “He turned out the light and went into Jem’s room. He would be there all night, and he would be there when Jem waked up in the morning.”

“The Great Gatsby” famously ends: “So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”

No title is needed to identify this couplet finale: “For never was a story of more woe / Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.”

From “The Road” comes this poetic prose: “In the deep glens where they lived all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery.”

“The Green Mile” ends: “We each owe a death, there are no exceptions, I know that, but sometimes, oh God, the Green Mile is so long.”

Death, the narrator of “The Book Thief,” concludes: “A LAST NOTE FROM YOUR NARRATOR. I am haunted by humans.”

“Adventures of Huckleberry Finn”: “I got to light out for the territory ahead of the rest, because Aunt Sally she’s going to adopt me and sivilize me, and I can’t stand it. I been there before.”

“The Sun Also Rises”: “ ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Isn’t it pretty to think so?’ ”

“The Grapes of Wrath” closes with this indelible image: “She looked up across the barn, and her lips came together and smiled mysteriously.”

“Travels with Charley”: “And that’s how the traveler came home again.”

And in “brown girl dreaming” Jacqueline Woodson ends with this verse: “gather into one world / called You / where You decide / what each world / each story / and each ending / will finally be.”

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Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

Woody writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @woodywoodburn. His SIGNED books are available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.

Some Very, Very Short Stories

by Woody

“Simplify, simplify,” advised Henry David Thoreau, to which Ralph Waldo Emerson wryly, and wisely, replied: “One ‘simplify’ would have sufficed.”

On a similar theme, Ernest Hemingway is said to have once accepted a bet that he couldn’t write a complete story in a mere six words. Papa triumphed with this mini-masterpiece: “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.”

For fun, I challenged some friends to write their own six-word stories of fiction or memoir. Here are some of their tiny tales…

“She had me with her smile.” By Mitch Gold.

By Steve Grimm: “I asked her, she said yes!”

Conversely, and darkly, by Debby Holt Larkin, author of “A Lovely Girl” and the daughter of the late, great Bob Holt who chronicled this column space long ago: “Wife ran off … need your shovel.”

Even more darkly, a six-word historical novel by Chris Barney: “Rats had fleas. Millions died painfully.”

More happily, by Ethan Lubin: “Former students visited. Made my day.”

“Ignored warning signs, at great peril.” By Joe Garces.

“Caesar had the best,” noted John Yewell: “ ‘I came, I saw, I conquered.’ Of course in Latin it’s only three words.”

“The light is darkness. Oh, Oppenheimer.” By Karen Lindell.

 “Today, tomorrow and whatever comes next,” wrote John Collet and Susie Merry offered: “Small things can bring big happiness.”

Less happily, by Patrick Burke: “Last man down the trail, alive.”

“ ‘You run everyday?’ They are confused.” A mini-memoir by Lauren Siegel, a “streaker” who has run 8,737 consecutive days.

 “I patted her pillow. It’s empty,” wrote James Barney, while Mary Eilleen Distin offered: “He left, and now I’m happy.”

“I moved to NYC at 71.” By Kris Young.

Jeff McElroy flipped the script on Hemingway’s heartbreaking micro-novella, turning it into a much happier one – and in only five words: “Free: Baby shoes, well-worn.”

Seeking even further simplicity, I posed a second challenge of brevity: Write a happy story in only four words…

“I love you, too,” wrote Chulwon Karma Park.

Kathy McAlpine and Betsy Chess both identically authored a classical super small storybook: “Lived happily ever after!” while Allyson McAuley added a slight twist: “They lived, happily, peacefully.”

“Peace love rock roll,” wrote Dick Birney while Carrie Wolfe offered: “Life is unexpected love.”

“The grandkids came over!” wrote Toni Tuttle-Santana and E.Wayne Kempton echoed: “Good to be Grampy!”

By Alison Smith Carlson: “Julie’s cancer was cured.”

In a sequel to his earlier six-word story, or perhaps a prequel, James Barney wrote: “She woke beside me.”

“The cruise is booked!” wrote Karen Biedebach-Berry and Julie Chrisman offered another tale of the sea: “Today I went Paddleboarding!”

Susie Merry wrote a sweet story, “I ate some chocolate,” and John Brooks served up a similar theme for readers’ consumption: “I ate some cannoli!”

“I got over it,” wrote Shaka Senghor and I, for one, want 1,000 more words.

Cindy Hansen wrote, “Hike trees bees breathe,” while Tom Koenig similarly offered: “Warm water beach sand.”

In an inspiring mini-memoir, Todd Kane wrote: “Been sober since 1976.”

“Because she was brave.” By Hannah McFadden.

“We are all together,” wrote Mike Weinberg-Lynn while Robin Harwin Satnick offered: “We happily adventured together.”

“9 o’clock starting time,” wrote Rodney Johnsen, Sr. in a story that may turn less happy by the third tee.

“Fireplace book cooking wine,” wrote Kathleen Koenig while Vicki Means offered: “Feeling safe and sound.”

“Autumn air smells earthy!” By Lisa Barreto.

Julie Hein wrote, “Gave birth; heart grew,” while Edie Marshall also offered a love story: “Found Chuck. Got married.”

Lastly, by yours truly: “Column written for me.”

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Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

Woody writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @woodywoodburn. His SIGNED books are available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.

Part 2: Hemingway’s “Last Red Cent”

by Woody

FOLLOW ME ON INSTAGRAM: @woodywoodburn

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Part 2: Hemingway’s

“Last Red Cent”

The stairway to heaven has 19 steps.

Before climbing the outdoor flight leading to Ernest Hemingway’s second-floor writing studio in the backyard, spitting distance away I toured the main house at 907 Whitehead Street in Key West’s Old Town. It is a mansion masterpiece.

The Spanish antiques and African artwork throughout, much collected by Hemingway himself, are stunning. However, I was more captivated by the wordsmith’s seven typewriters – three Underwood models; one Remington portable; two Corona machines, one black and the other forest green; and one Royal – displayed in various rooms.

Hanging out with Hemingway in his Key West home.

The black Royal portable, Hemingway’s favorite, naturally resides in his next-door upstairs studio. The spacious room has robin-egg blue walls and red terra cotta tile floor. Sun pours through ample windows, one of which affords a view of the Atlantic Ocean.

In addition to bookcases fully filled, the décor features taxidermic hunting trophies plus a mounted fish – albeit greatly smaller than Santiago’s great marlin in “The Old Man and the Sea.”

The showpiece of the room, however, is a modest round table the master used as a desk paired with a lone wooden chair. Upon the well-worn tabletop sits Hemingway’s prized typewriter as well as a notebook with a pen resting on its open pages.

When I came through, an orange six-toed cat was also resting on the table-turned-desk. One could imagine the tabby was waiting for its master to return because a sheet of typing paper was in the Royal, as if Papa had just stepped out for a moment.

“There is nothing to writing,” Hemingway famously said. “All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”

Hemingway bled profusely in this den from 1931 to 1939, writing nine books. The prolific period began with “Death in the Afternoon”, included “The Green Hills of Africa” and “For Whom the Bells Toll”, and ended with “Under Kilimanjaro.” His process was to rise at dawn and hunch over his Royal until early afternoon, always quitting while still in the flow so it would be easier start anew the following morning.

The magic one feels standing before the Mona Lisa or the marble David, I experienced here. Oh, how I would have loved to give the Pulitzer Prize winner’s antique Royal a whirl for a sentence or three!

Too, I would have liked to dive into the magnificent swimming pool some two dozen strides from the writing studio and directly below the master bedroom in the main house. Dug into solid coral ground, it took two years to complete and was the only swimming pool within 100 miles.

Measuring 60 feet by 24 feet and 10 feet deep at the south end, half that at the opposite point on the compass, the rectangular pool cost a staggering $20,000 in 1938. Understand, less than a decade earlier the entire home and acre of land was purchased for $8,000.

Hemingway was exasperated at the pool’s final cost and at his second wife who oversaw its construction while he was away as a correspondent for the Spanish Civil War. Upon his return, he is said to have flung down a penny and complained: “Pauline, you’ve spent all but my last red cent, so you might as well have that!”

Offered as evidence that the story is true and not apocryphal, Pauline had a penny embedded heads-up in the cement on the shallow-end deck. Superstitiously, I left a shiny penny behind on top of that famous red cent.

Soon thereafter, I left a few dollars behind in the gift shop for a leather bookmark with the image of a lucky six-toed cat.

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @woodywoodburn. His books are available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.

Check out my memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and my essay collection “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” …

 

Hemingway’s Home Is Cats’ Meow

by Woody

FOLLOW ME ON INSTAGRAM: @woodywoodburn

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Hemingway’s Home

Is The Cats’ Meow

            A seven-block walk from the celebrated red-black-and-yellow concrete buoy marking The Southernmost Point in the Continental United States brought me to the North Star: The Ernest Hemingway Home & Museum.

Inside the brick wall and front gate awaits the home.

Nestled in the heart of Key West’s Old Town, the white-black-and-gold manor at 907 Whitehead Street is where the master wordsmith lived for a prolific writing span from 1931 to 1939. In 1968, seven years after Hemingway’s death, the estate became a registered National Historic Landmark.

Architecturally, the home seems transplanted from the French Quarter in New Orleans with a black wrought-iron balcony wrapping around the second story. Floor-to-ceiling arched windows framed by gold shutters add to the southern charm.

Majestic trees, including skyscraper palms, surround the home. The one-acre lush grounds are in turn framed by a brick wall, tall as a man. Not surprisingly, there is a tale behind the wall.

It seems that when the town’s red-brick streets were being torn up in 1938, Hemingway and some pals, including renowned Sloppy Joe’s Bar owner Joe Russell, surreptitiously followed behind the work wagons helping themselves to Baltimore pavers. After the pilfering was discovered – for the bricks had in fact not been headed to the scrap heap – Hemingway settled up by paying a penny apiece.

A Hemingway portrait greets visitors inside.

The wall had become necessary because of an earlier visit to Key West by President Franklin D. Roosevelt. To capitalize on the event, a map was printed for tourists and among the sites highlighted was Hemingway’s home complete with address. Suddenly, strangers were knocking on the front door and roaming the property uninvited.

Emphasizing the dangers of the period, Hemingway expert Chris Parsons told me in a private visit following a public tour: “Key West was like the Wild West when he lived here. You needed a knife or gun if you went out on street after dusk. Hemingway, of course, didn’t need a weapon because he was larger than life – ”

Nodding towards the brick wall’s entranceway, Parsons added, “ – with a gait wider than that gate.”

Strolling through that gate an hour earlier, I was immediately greeted by a sense of overwhelming reverence. In my mind’s eye, I could see Papa Hemingway; in my heart’s imagination, I felt his presence.

Too, I was greeted on the front porch by a grey tabby rubbing up against my leg. Inside, more cats awaited. In some rooms, the felines seemed as numerous as the butterflies at the nearby nature conservatory.

The famous six-toed Hemingway cats roam everywhere, outside and inside.

It turns out about 60 cats live out their pampered nine lives at Hemingway’s home. To give you an idea, they are even allowed to sleep on the priceless antique furniture that is roped off from the public visitors.

The resident cats are of all shades and colors: gray, black and white, red. Most are likely distant descendents of a Snow White, a rare six-toed cat given as a gift to Hemingway from a local boat captain. Six-toed cats, even black ones, were considered good luck at the time.

Cats normally have five toes on each front paw our tour guide informed us, but the majority of the Hemingway housecats are “polydactyl” meaning they have six front toes. The polydactyls are easy to spot because their paws are so large it looks like they are wearing mittens.

“One cat leads to another,” Hemingway liked to say of his caboodle, although he had fewer back then than the current five dozen.

He also liked to name his cats after famous people, a practice that continues today with Lucille Ball, Winston Churchill and Cary Grant among those all in current residence.

To be continued next week.

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @woodywoodburn. His books are available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.

Check out my memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and my essay collection “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” …

National Book Month In One Day

by Woody

FOLLOW ME ON INSTAGRAM: @woodywoodburn

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National Book Month

List In One Day

Well, this isn’t the first time I’ve been late to a party. October is National Book Month and a friend invited me to join a 31-day challenge. Below, in one day, is my full month of answers.

Had I replied to the prompts yesterday, there’s a good chance half my answers might be different; tomorrow, perhaps the other half would change. I hope you are inspired you to come up with your own list.

Day 1 – The Best Book You’ve Read This Year: Tie between “The Nickel Boys” by Colson Whitehead and “This Tender Land” by William Kent Krueger.

Day 2 – A Book That You’ve Read More than Three Times: “The Old Man and the Sea” by Ernest Hemingway.

Day 3 – Your Favorite Series: “The Famous Bedtime Story Books” by Thornton Burgess.

Day 4 – Favorite Book of Your Favorite Series: “The Adventures of Buster Bear.”

Day 5 – A Book That Makes You Happy: Most any Dr. Seuss book.

Day 6 – A Book That Makes You Sad: “Old Yeller” by Fred Gipson.

Day 7 – Most Underrated Book: “Sweet Tuesdays” by John Steinbeck.

Day 8 – Most Overrated Book: I don’t think a book can be overrated, but Ann Patchett’s new offering, “The Dutch House”, didn’t lived up to the hype for me.

Day 9 – A Book You Thought You Wouldn’t Like But Ended Up Loving: “Lincoln in the Bardo” by George Saunders.

Day 10 – Favorite Classic Book: “The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn” by some fella named Mark Twain.

Day 11 – A Book You Hated: Knowing the effort every writer puts into a book, my lips are sealed.

Day 12 – A Book You Used to Love But Don’t Anymore: My crushes all remain intact.

Day 13 – Your Favorite Writer: John Steinbeck is a close second behind my daughter Dallas Woodburn.

Day 14 – Book From Your Favorite Writer: “The Grapes of Wrath” by Steinbeck and “Woman, Running Late, In A Dress” by Woodburn.

Day 15 – Favorite Male Character: Atticus Finch (I have not read “Go Set a Watchman.”)

Day 16 – Favorite Female Character: Charlotte A. Cavatica.

Day 17 – Favorite Quote: “Isn’t it pretty to think so?” Final line of “The Son Also Rises” by Hemingway.

Day 18 – First “Chapter Book” You Can Remember Reading As A Child: “Charlotte’s Web.”

Day 19 – Favorite Book Turned Into A Movie (I’ll add the stipulation “good” movie): The Harry Potter series.

Day 20 – Book That Makes You Laugh Out Loud: “A Walk In The Woods” by Bill Bryson.

Day 21 – Favorite Book From Your Childhood: “Where the Wild Things Are” by Maurice Sendak.

Day 22 – Book You’re Currently Reading: “Mr. Penumbra’s 24-Hour Bookstore” by Robin Sloan and halfway through, I’m loving it.

Day 23 – Your Guilty Pleasure: Anything by Robert Fulghum.

Day 24 – A Book You Wish More People Would Read: “Fog” by Ken McAlpine; “We Stood Upon Stars” by Roger W. Thompson; and “Wooden & Me” by me!

Day 25 – Favorite Book You Read In School: “To Kill a Mockingbird” by Harper Lee.

Day 26 – Favorite Autobiography: “They Call Me Coach” by John Wooden.

Day 27 – The Most Surprising Plot Twist or Ending: “Life of Pi” by Yann Martel.

Day 28 – Favorite Title: “Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs” by Judi Barrett.

Day 29 – A Book Few Have Heard Of That You Loved: “The Snow Goose” by Paul Gallico.

Day 30 – Book on the top of your To Read Next Pile: “The Goldfinch” by Donna Tartt.

Day 31 – Favorite Book: Impossible! But if I must try, a tie between Hemingway’s “The Old Man and the Sea” and “Travels with Charley” by Steinbeck.

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @woodywoodburn. His books are available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.

Check out my memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and my essay collection “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” …

Steinbeck’s (Like) Typewriter

by Woody

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#TBT stands also for

Throwback Typing

            Throwback Thursday, more often designated simply with the hashtag #TBT, is popular on Instagram, Facebook and Twitter when social media users post nostalgic photos once a week.

In that same spirit, this is a #TBT column. Instead of a photograph from yesteryear, the nostalgia involved is that I wrote the first draft of this column on a typewriter instead of my laptop computer. #TBT is for Throwback Typing.

This old-school exercise came about because I recently received a truly glorious gift for my birthday – a 1949 Hermes Baby portable typewriter in mint condition.

John Steinbeck’s Hermes Baby at San Jose State University.

Gray, black and silver with a single fire-engine red racing stripe, it is the same model John Steinbeck took on his famous road trip around America while writing “Travels with Charley.” His Baby, etched with “The Beast Within” on the back, is on display in the Center for Steinbeck Studies at San Jose State University. Ever since seeing it a handful of years ago, I have been smitten.

“Suisse”-made, the Hermes Baby made its debut in 1924 and was anything but beastly. In fact, it was the first true mini-typewriter with a four-row keyboard. Indeed, the Baby is a marvel in sleek compactness, almost exactly the rectangular size of my Apple Notebook, albeit nearly three inches in height instead of less than an inch thick.

My Hermes Baby on display … at home in Ventura.

Compared to the 1912 Underwood No. 5 that I inherited from my grandfather, which is about as heavy as an anvil, the Baby is featherlight. Too, its keystrokes require only a light touch rather than finger pounding.

All the same, the keyboard forces me to slow down. This is not because the type bars stick together if they simultaneously cross paths, but rather because my specific Baby has an odd Italian layout with the customary QWERTY keyboard arranged instead QZERTY. Hence, one must turn off the autopilot when typing W’s and Z’s that have traded places.

As a result, it is easy to misspell zords – rather, words – containing Z’s and W’s. In notes to friends, I simply let these transposed misstrikes go as is because I think they add charm. With this column draft, however, I edited misstrikes and mistakes the old-fashioned way, in pencil using copyediting symbols. Doing so was enjoyably nostalgic.

The funky W and Z keys added to my nostalgia. You see, at my first newspaper job nearly four decades past, the ancient battleship-sized Remington typewriter I was assigned had a broken “K” key. Actually, half-broken – it would type a capital but not lowercase. Thus, one had to painstakingly hit “Shift” and “K” to write “broKen” or “quarterbacK” and then correct it afterward with a copyediting slash.

Being forced to slow the fingers down perhaps has its advantages by also making one think in less of a rush. Indeed, this first draft seemed more polished than when I compose on a speedy laptop where rewriting is clean and easy. It’s the difference between walking a high wire without a safety net below versus with one.

Despite the added step of retyping my words into a laptop document file, perhaps I will write more columns on my Baby – or my 1953 Underwood portable or 1962 Hermes 3000 Curvy, a beautiful sea-foam green semi-portable that rounds out my small collection to date.

An old song goes, “Don’t throw the past away / You might need it some rainy day . . . When everything old is new again.”

That’s how I, and a growing number of QWERTY – and QZERTY – aficionados, feel about Throwback Typewriters. My Hermes Baby is a seven-decades-old fossil, but it also seems good as new again.

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FOLLOW ME ON INSTAGRAM: @woodywoodburn

Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at woodywoodburn. His books are available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.

Check out my memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and my essay collection “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” …

Long Column of Super Short Stories

by Woody

STRAW_CoverWoody’s highly anticipated new book “STRAWBERRIES IN WINTERTIME: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” is NOW available! Order your signed copy HERE!

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Simplifying the Short Story to the Extreme

“Simplify, simplify,” advised Henry David Thoreau, to which Ralph Waldo Emerson wryly, and wisely, replied: “One ‘simplify’ would have sufficed.”

Another writing master, Ernest Hemingway, once accepted a challenge of simplifying from colleagues who bet him he couldn’t write a complete story in a mere six words. The master wordsmith made them pay up with this gem: “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.”

Ernest Hemingway , according to literary lore, once won a bet with a masterful six-word short story.

Ernest Hemingway , according to literary lore, once won a bet with a masterful six-word short story.

It is the work of a genius, indeed, for the reader can instantly imagine another 1,000 words to fill out the story.

With this in mind, I challenged some friends and social media pals to write their own six-word story of fiction or memoir.

My good buddy Jeff McElroy, an accomplished author who is familiar with Papa Hemingway’s complete body of work from long to supremely short, responded thusly: “Here’s an attempt to make the most heartbreaking shortest story into a happier one: ‘Free baby shoes. Well-worn.’ ”

Here are a few more six-word stories . . .

From Marcella Williams: “The skiff landed. My life metamorphosed.”

Mitch Gold: “My kids are my greatest achievements.”

Scott Harris: “He was blessed with good friends.”

Karen Biedebach-Berry: “Sun, surf, sea-glass, Pierpont Beach house!”

Terry Wieser: “I tripped but never fell hard.”

Arlys Tuttle: “My phone rang; never guess who.”

Deborah Sutherlan-Hocamp: “Last surviving human hears the doorbell.”

From Ed Wehan, an ultra-marathoner who conquered the Western States 100 Mile Race in his younger days and is still a long-distance marvel at age 72-going-on-52: “I ran but age caught me!”

Allyson McAuley: “Read books, traveled world, shared books.”

Tom Koenig: “Viewed, pursued, aged, still pursuing her!”

Karen Lindell: “Her heart gently listens, loves, aches.”

Jill Shaffer: “Life is short, cherish every day.”

And my own mini-memoir six-pack: “Tries to make today a masterpiece.”

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Seeking even further simplicity, I posed a second challenge of brevity: write a happy story – fiction or memoir – in only four words.

Houston Wolf: “Lived happily ever after.”

From Allyson McAuley: “It wasn’t too late.”

Randall Richman offered, “Peace on Earth occurred,” and Kris Young echoed: “World peace is here.”

Teri Hu: “My kids are home!”

Susan Goodkin: “I’m at LAX arrivals.”

Elizabeth Black: “Then I saw you.”

Rebekah Reddy: “And then they hugged.”

Sandy O’Brien: “We named him Bennett.”

Irene Henry: “Babies’ unconditional loving smiles.”

Here’s three vivid images: Nancy Kirk, “I see a rainbow”; Althea Carlson, “There are puppies everywhere”; and Susan Jorgensen, “Yum, so much cake!”

Jon Gold: “Pastrami sandwich, half price.”

David Spruill: “Reading ‘Harry Potter’ again!”

Tom Spence: “It’s in the hole!

From Jayce Yeh, “Your son’s vitals stabilized,” and similarly from Mark Jasper, “My child is healthy.”

Toni Tuttle-Santana: “Family growing and thriving.”

Mike Davis: “Joy in my heart.”

Lisa Iannucci: “Smiled often, laughed much.”

Steve Cook: “I painted all day.”

Lisa Iannucci: “My screenplay was sold!”

Anne Kallas: “I adopted a dog/cat.”

From Joe Siddens came “Will you marry me?” to which Jill Shaffer added this happy sequel: “She said ‘yes!’ ”

From Keith Pillow, “Then she loved me”; from Jim Gstettenbauer: “She laughed, I smiled”; and from Josh Crowder, “We found love together.”

Nicole Marsella-Jensen: “Passport, a new stamp.”

Cary Ginell: “Trump falls off cliff.”

From Suz Montgomery, “I am cancer free,” and similarly from Deborah Sutherland-Hocamp: “The X-rays were negative.”

Ronna Streeton, “I have four grandchildren!” and Carol Roth, “Seven grandchildren equals joy!”

Wayne Kempton wrote a matrimonial memoir: “48th anniversary with Shari.”

Barry Sackett offered, “She loved the puppy,” and my former Star colleague Melissa Eastman Wantz made it happier yet with this slight rewrite: “The puppy loved her.”

Annie Elizabeth: “My heart is full.”

And Michelle Rogers wrote this heartwarming gem, which is memoir not fiction: “I donated my kidney.”

The last four words come from yours truly: “Column written for me.”

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com.

Wooden&Me_cover_PRCheck out my new memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece”

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Column: New Mount Rushmores

by Woody

We’re Going To Need More Granite

 

Eighty years ago the sculpture on steroids known as Mount Rushmore had the face of its first rock star dedicated in ceremony. Three years later in 1936 Thomas Jefferson joined George Washington followed by Abraham Lincoln’s face in 1937. Lastly, in 1939, Theodore Roosevelt’s spectacled countenance completed the famous presidential quartet.

 

RushmoreIn honor of the 75th anniversary, I thought it would be fun to consider some other Mount Rushmores. Certainly you will not agree with all – or perhaps even many – of my suggestions, but that’s part of the fun.

 

Likely, one’s own age and biases will blur their vision.

 

And, hopefully, good-natured arguments will ensue which is fine because these are not written in stone – oh, wait, yes they are!

 

Let’s put the boxing gloves on and begin.

 

The Mount Rushmore of Boxing – Jack Johnson, Joe Louis, Muhammad Ali and Rocky Balboa.

 

The Mount Rushmore of Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Models – Surely dating myself, I’ll go with chiseling in granite these – um – busts: Cheryl Tiegs, Kathy Ireland, Elle Macpherson and Christie Brinkley.

 

The Mount Rushmore of American Writers (Male) – Hemingway, Twain, Steinbeck and, since this is my list, Jim Murray.

 

The Mount Rushmore of Writers (Female) – Emily Dickinson, Harper Lee (I know, I know, she only wrote one book but “To Kill A Mockingbird” is THAT great!), J.K. Rowling (conversely for her series of books and their impact on young readers), and Maya Angelou (for her voice aloud as well as on the written page).

 

The Mount Rushmore of Athletic Shoes – PF Flyers, Chuck Taylor Converse High-Tops, Adidas Superstars and Nike Air Jordans.

 

The Mount Rushmore of Stadiums – Since there are far more great stadiums than great presidents, I’m breaking this into categories:

 

Baseball – Yankee Stadium, Fenway Park, Dodger Stadium and (sorry Wrigley Field) the tiny Field of Dreams.

 

Football/Track – The Colosseum (in Rome),The Coliseum (Los Angeles Memorial, host of two Olympics and two Super Bowls including the first), The Rose Bowl (framed by the San Gabriel Mountains) and (sorry Lambeau Stadium, Notre Dame Stadium, Ohio Stadium, Soldier Field and others) The Astrodome (for good reason called in 1965 “The Eighth Wonder of the World”).

 

            Arenas – The original Madison Square Garden, the original Boston Garden, The “Fabulous” Forum and Pauley Pavilion because championship banners matter.

 

The Mount Rushmore of Cold Cereals – Corn Flakes, Rice Krispies, Raisin Bran and Wheaties.

 

My Personal Boyhood Mount Rushmore of Sugar For Breakfast – Froot Loops, Super Sugar Crisp, Alpha-Bits and Tony The Tiger’s “They’re Grrreat!” Frosted Flakes.

 

The Mount Rushmore of Candy Bars – Hershey, Milky Way, Snickers and 3 Musketeers.

 

The Mount Rushmore of Basketball – James Naismith (The Inventor), John Wooden (The Wizard), Phil Jackson (The Zen Master) and Jerry West (The NBA’s Logo and thus represents all the hardwood greats).

 

The Mount Rushmore of Quarterbacks – Johnny Unitas, Otto Graham (seven pro championships in 10 title games in his 10-year-career), Joe Montana and I’ll have to get back to you on the fourth.

 

The Mount Rushmore of Tennis (Men) – Remember this is my monument: Rod Laver, Bjorn Borg, and Mike and Bob Bryan (unlike the greatest singles player in history, there is no debate over the greatest doubles tandem ever).

 

The Mount Rushmore of Tennis (Women) – Billie Jean King, Chris Evert, Martina Navratilova and Steffi Graf.

 

The Mount Rushmore of Superheroes (Comics) – Batman, Superman, (Comics), Spider-Man and (my monument) Mighty Mouse.

 

The Mount Rushmore of Superheroes (Film) – John Wayne (almost every role), James Bond, Atticus Finch and James Bailey.

 

The Mount Rushmore of Female Vocalists – Aretha Franklin, Ella Fitzgerald, Janis Joplin and Whitney Houston.

 

The Mount Rushmore of Male Vocalists – I’m not even going to try.

 

The Mount Rushmore of Movies – Impossible, but here goes: The Jazz Singer (first talkie), Casablanca (first on many people’s list), Star Wars (hey, its my list) and just to make my Pops happy, his boyhood version of Star Wars and all-time favorite movie to this day, The Adventures of Robin Hood starring Errol Flynn and Olivia de Havilland.

 

The Mount Rushmore of Rock ’n’ Roll – In another impossible category, I choose to have George, Thomas, Abe and Teddy joined by John, Paul, George and Ringo.

 

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com.

 

Check out my new memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece”