July 2012. I finished reading “Snows”, (that is, The Snows of Kilimanjaro, for non-Hemingway folks), for the second time. I think back and I give thanks that my 1970 Sophomore High School English teacher, Mrs. Barnes, who was dedicated to her students and exposed us to literature that made us think and experience emotion through the written word. Ernest Hemingway was one such author. He has been on my reading shelf for decades now.
Sitting in my comfy lazy-boy using the same Apple MacBook Pro I’m using now, (yes, it’s old and needs replacement soon), I was scrolling through the Internet search list for information on the well-known Karsch photo of Hemingway. This was an effort to find information regarding the “color” of the turtleneck sweater used in that 1957 shoot. Additionally, I wanted to know the history on the sweater. I have found two recounts on how the sweater came to be and both are logical. However, there can only be one that is correct. I’m still researching. Regarding the color that too is still unconfirmed, “in my research”. Did you know that Karsch took the 1961 LIFE magazine cover of Hemingway, which is color, in 1957 at the same sitting as the sweater? Yes, it’s true! At least with one source, Life Magazine Archives.
My research continues, which back in 2012 brought information about the Look-a-Like contest to my attention. Some interesting pictures. Short articles about fun and frivolity that takes place in Key West, Florida. I read those articles, I stared at those pictures. I was on vacation and had not shaved in over week. My salt and pepper stubble was apparent. Hey! Could it be? Do I resemble this author on some level at this stage of my life? “Hey, Sharon. Next summer we’re going to Key West in July!” “I’m going to enter the Ernest Hemingway Look-a-Like Society contest!” Silence from the other room. I have not shaved since July 2012.
Sharon did not make that first trip. Nor did she make the fourth trip, but that was due to other family obligations. She has been with me ever since. Dare I say, “She likes it”?
A born and bred a mid-west guy from the state of Iowa, small town Iowa to be more precise. I was born in Des Moines and I’m told resided there for about three years. A move to Ackley, Iowa took place. There I grew up and thanks to my parents and one sister became a trusting, loyal and helpful friend and member of that community. In June 1973 I left for Iowa City, Iowa and the University. Yes, I’m a Hawkeye! Darn proud too! I never moved back to Ackley and have only been back for weddings, funerals and reunions. I miss that grounding and will always be eternally grateful for the foundation that community, family and church gave to me. It has served me well and I will admit that I have kept my angels busy;)
Life sped up! Boom! 1977, done with University. No five-year party plan for me! HOWEVER, I met my beautiful soon to be bride in 1976. And let it be known, I did NOT drink scotch until I met her! She was a big city girl, (Chicago suburb). Sophisticated in ways that this country boy was enamored with and wanted to pursue. Let it be known her taste in scotch is terrible and she now stays with white wine. So these two Hawkeyes tied the knot on June 30, 1979. Moved to Cedar Rapids, Iowa and started life together. We moved to Madison, Wisconsin, (Badger Country), in 1981 & 1982. I came first to start a new position with WISC-TV and Sharon came a bit later and joined the RN ranks at Madison General Hospital in Neonatal Intensive Care.
Two Children and two Grandchildren later, here we sit! RETIRED! Where did time go? We have buried parents and relatives. We have cried and cheered at graduations and accomplishments. Life moves and if you are not careful it will move on without you! So we have tried over the year’s to stay plugged in to community, society and culture during those year’s we call life. Which leads me back to July 2012, HLAS and my attempt to grow.
When I looked at those pictures on the Internet, yes I saw older, somewhat portly bearded white guys. No question. That’s what you see, but if you look a bit deeper and you include others in the crowd, you see smiles. You see happiness. Other than potentially being fueled by some alcohol, (OK, maybe too much alcohol), what is causing the joy I see on those faces? I wanted to know.
July 2013. Having told my wife the summer before that I was going to go to this contest, I spent my time researching on how to get there and get registered. I believe I still have a copy of that first registration. So “what” do I “do” for this contest? Absolutely no clue! The registration form indicated that I would have sixty seconds for my preliminary round. So, what do I portray as Hemingway? Ah, the sweater! I saw lots of sweaters in the photos. Cream colored Irish knit and lots of the fishing style shirts. What about the Karsch photo sweater? I’ll do that “look”, it can’t be that hard to find! Wrong. Searching on line, talking with local knitters, visiting knitting clubs, it seemed futile. Then, right around April 2013, my sister called and said she found something on-line with an Etsy web page for antique clothing. I just about fell out of my chair when she sent the picture via email It was the closet representation found and I was running out of time. Even though it had no turtleneck collar, I said to grab it and Paula said she could match the color and knit a collar piece, which I now affectionately call “the dead ferret”.
Sweater all packed along with the fresh faux turtle collar, I waved good-bye and flew off with my sixty-second presentation in hand.
When you deplane in Key West it hits you hard in the face! I had lived and been in hot & humid situations previously. Having lived in Spain for two months and experienced Pamplona and the Festival de San Fermín, hot excitement was not new to me. However, Key West is different. This upper middle-aged, (58 at the time), got smacked. The difference between hot & humid mid-west and Key West hot & humid is the intensity and the unrelenting and unforgiving of its effect. Fortunately the antidote is Duval St with it’s shaded and cooled venues. After checking into the Southern Cross hotel, I hoofed it down to Sloppy Joe’s and entered the “Meet the Papa’s” event.
There I was, excited, all puffed up and ready to roll! I’m came in through the Duval St side and there sitting was a man wearing a long billed fishing hat and kaki fishing shirt and shorts. He grabbed me by the arm as I walked by and said, “hey, you here for the contest?” I was thrilled that someone noticed! So quickly too! Lord, it must be obvious that I look like Hemingway! “Yes”, I said. The gentleman then whipped out a felt tipped pen and doodled a character on my new shirt that I had just purchased at the airport! “What the hell”, I thought! He shook my hand, welcomed me and said, “Go shake hands, meet some people”. “Those guys wearing the ribbons and name tags, that’s who you want to meet.” “Where’s your name tag?” he asked. Sheepishly, I said I did not have one. “Get one”, he replied. “Like this”. He turned and there was his nametag and he was also wearing a multi-colored ribbon. My friendship with Papa Ron Thomas has been solid ever since. I still have that shirt and it’s never been washed, as I don’t want to loose that doodle.
So what’s this all about? I was having a blast! The time of my life, as they say. As the contest progressed my first year, it became apparent to me that there was a method to this madness. Giving out scholarships to students, holding auctions to raise funds. I was stunned my first year that a “piece”, ( a big piece), of the gate from the Hemingway house estate was auctioned and went for $11,000.00! How does one get that home, let alone out of Sloppy Joe’s bar? But, it became apparent this was an organization and it had a singular purpose. Light bulb #1. Ok, I was intrigued. What’s the structure? Are there officers? Who are they? Do they meet during the year? How do I find out and how do I become involved? Ah, there’s the rub.
I felt this had to be fairly simple and easy. I’ve been involved with the Boy Scouts, (yes, I’m an Eagle), The Optimist Club of Downtown Madison (Past President), Masonry (PM), Shrine. All these organizations have structure, Officers, Boards. In order to succeed and complete objectives that aspect has to exist. Yes, I knew paying the registration fee included membership into the Society, but other than being called a “Wannabe”, what else is there? So my first year yielded questions, which needed answers. I spent lots of time going from bar to bar along Duval, looking for Papa’s on Thursday evening my first year. I was stoked! That evenings contest was fun to watch and Sloppy Joe’s was raucous. But as 2am approached I needed to give up my search as Friday was my turn and I wanted to be fresh, as I knew they would pick me, right? Fast forward to Friday check-in. I’m pumped and there I was in front of the registration table. I picked up my nametag! Yeah! I now had one! Then I was told there had been a change and they were letting all contestants know, you would only be allowed thirty seconds! I did not notice this on Thursday, but then again why would I? It’s noisy; you’re drinking and striking up conversations to meet people. Well, crap! My whole presentation was based on sixty seconds. I had a song prepared! I just can’t cut the song! Well, hell, I might as well just hang it up as I slunk back to the hallway between Sloppy Joe’s and Joe’s Tap to wait. I went into the bathroom, put on my sweater and nametag. “Make sure to wear your name tag”, I was told! It was 5:45pm.
Do you know what happens when you wear a sweater for two hours in the intense heat and humidity of Key West? You lose weight. I lost count of how many cups of water I had that evening and suffice it to say I was really happy to get on and off that stage so I could take off that sweater! Only to find out I had to wait until the selections were announced for Saturday. The wait was worth it, as a first year Wannabe I made it to Saturday and the prize of a case of Budweiser sure was going to taste good! My energy was renewed and my hydration restored! Back out on to Duval in search of Papa’s. Find them. Introduce yourself again. Buy them a drink and have conversation. I never found them. Papa’s hide well! I found out later that there is a bar inside the Pier House, while others retire early.
Saturday July 20, 2013. A great day! Bulls on wheels! People taking pictures of these wheeled creatures while others sat of them. I did not know what to do! Remember, I was there under my own volition and did not know a soul. I found a few of my newly made acquaintances and we hung around the bullpen. Finally I just started hawking like a barker at the carnival getting people over and interested. Gently cajoling the ladies to sit upon our calm bulls so their husbands could take a picture. Fundraising. Light bulb #2. We pushed the bulls around the block, and all enjoyed a raucous festive parade atmosphere. That evening Papa Stephen Terry claimed the top spot. I had an early Sunday flight home and my birthday was Monday and I needed to regale my adventure back to Sharon. Now, how to convince her to come next year!
Evidently my skills of persuasion with Sharon were effective, as she has only missed one other year!
2016. This was a year of change. Three consecutive years of making it to the semi-finals on Saturday, this time, I did not. Whoa! What happened? What did I do wrong! This was the other year that Sharon missed. So I was by myself. I guess that was probably a good thing as my mood was not good. It was an unusual schedule for me that year, which ended up changing my arrival time to Friday. My preliminary day. Boom! Out! Kicked to the curb with no explanation! I disappeared into the din of Duval Street and found rum and cigars.
After licking my rum soaked wounds. I wandered back to the B&B from the Green Parrot late or should I say early? My soggy brain was tired and after fumbling with my key at the door I made it up to my room and crashed. In what seemed like five minutes I woke up to the bright light of the morning. I missed the continental breakfast! More insult to the injury. So I sat out in the back patio area where I’m “allowed” to have a cigar and mulled my intentions. I could just chuck it and spend the day exploring Key West, find some food and music and then go home the next day. Chalking this up to a four-year run and move on. Or, I could go back to Sloppy Joe’s and sweat in my whites while rolling with the bulls. I chose the path of going back, as I also wanted to see if I could find an explanation.
Standing in the sun and sweating out rum, (plus lots of water), I was on the Joe’s Tap porch and a Papa Stephen Terry came up to me and said, “Thanks for coming back”! As they say, “the rest is history”. But that’s all it took, somebody who cared, someone who recognized that I was there trying to help and trying be part of the process. That was the seed of friendship. It has been growing ever since.
There are many stories and much rum consumed along the way. It is an experience that needs to be lived in order to understand the impact on one’s life. From the art doodle on my shirt, to the personal touch, the friendships you make and the family ties that bind, all for one effort to assist students making their way forward. You see, it’s not a “me” game. It’s not an “I” game. The lesson is friendship, family, and dedication.
July 2021: The year’s leading up to 2021 were filled with lots of fun. A few midyears, and certainly rum, bourbon and cigars. Friendships exploded and each year built on the anticipation for the next gathering. I kept telling my relatives they needed to come down to Key West and have some fun. Alas, I became resigned to not having any family or friends share in what I knew to be a great time. Then in 2019 my son broke that dam and joined Sharon and I for fun in Key West. His response at the end of his experience, “I now get it”. He could not promise to be there every year due to his work schedule, but he would try. That was enough for me. At least he now knew about the effort and the people involved. Of course 2020 gave everyone a forced break, much to everyone’s disappointment but a correct decision. For me, it gave time and ammunition to get family motivated to come take a vacation and have some fun. My daughter and husband came this time. As well, my son managed to break away again but this time he showed up with 15 friends! All in matching shirts! A total surprise to me! In the back of my mind, all I could think was, “I hope I can make it to Saturday!” Did their presence help? Was their cheering effective? I’ll never know but for whatever reason I not only made it to Saturday, but top 5! Your first time it is rarified air. I was not expecting it. Thus, I was not prepared. 2 minutes! My lord, that’s half a lifetime on stage. Lesson learned, be prepared.
The family and friends were ecstatic! I was elated! I could not explain why, but was I thrilled! However, a short time later after the celebration of Papa Zach, Papas’ Terry and Maxey came up to me with a congratulatory handshake and the advice, “don’t blow it now!” What? What did that mean? Was this some form of mental hazing? I’m an old frat boy from Iowa so I understood that approach, but I did not comprehend what it meant to “blow it”. Great, my wind filled sails went slack. However, it was time to celebrate, so we did!
July 2022: The word went out to the rest of the family. They came to Key West and experienced what I had been telling them for ten year’s. Fortunately I did not “blow it” and for a second time I made top five. This time I was prepared. I felt I had a much better understanding and a better approach. One thing you realize at that point, the men on that stage are all good men, men of quality and capabilities. It’s your friend standing next to you and you are happy to be there with them. My friend, John Auvil became Papa 2022.
This was also a year of continued growth. Sharon and I found ourselves in Cuba learning about the Gigi All-Stars and the work that Honorary Papa Gordon Sinclair has been doing on the island. I truly hope that one-day things will change for the Cuban people. In the meantime being able to support this youth program is a needed and necessary task, which I’m happy to be part of.
July 2023: So, here we are. A two time top five Wannabe. Still lingering in the back of mind is, “just don’t blow it”. After eleven years registered, this would be the tenth time on the stage. I was still not sure if the Papa’s knew me or at least had a good sense. That was my change and challenge for this year, to speak about elements that spoke to my character. To reflect on the foundation of who I was as a person.
It’s hard to be in a competition with your friends. You are all after the same thing. You need to understand it’s not about “you” but you need to succeed. For me it’s like the old high school wrestling practice. Who was going to get slotted to participate in your weight class? You had to compete with your friends. You had to go out and rub their face in the mat and score points. Then get up, shake hands and be friends again. It is a very individual process, but you are also a team. All I could do was try. Once again, my friends, all good men, where doing the same thing.
Sitting on a bar stool by the Green Street door, I was sweating. This year was extra brutal with the heat and humidity. The sweater felt like it was ten pounds. I’m waiting to hear the name of my friend. People are yelling at me to get on stage. It becomes a blur. You hear about how things feel in slow motion. It’s true. Then all of a sudden it gets really loud! I’m still piecing together the moment.
Elven year’s registered, ten year’s walking on the stage. My friends, my family, my HLAS family.
At the end of one of my favorite movies, (which I cry every time), George Bailey is handed a book, Tom Sawyer, and inscribed on the inside jacket is, “Remember, no man is a failure who has friends”. It has been A Wonderful Life.