Thoughts on Hemingway’s Moveable Feast

Spending Some Time Editing the Composition

Spending Some Time Editing the Composition

. . . a memory or even a state of being that had become a part of you, a thing that you could have always with you, no matter where you went or how you lived forever after, that you could never lose.

Patrick Hemingway writing the Foreword to his father’s book A Moveable Feast

Feeling like Hemingway in the cafe on the Place St.-Michel in the winter of 1921 Paris, I am seated in the back of my chilly classroom this morning, huddled in my leather billings jacket, drinking coffee and re-reading portions of Hemingway’s A Moveable Feast that I only discovered a winter or two ago.  It’s the last official day of school, and though we will have two successive mornings of final exams, the classes will be abbreviated, and students will clear the building before noon.  Little-to-no interaction will transpire the next two mornings; today is the “Merry Christmas” and “Seasons Greetings” kind of day that fills all of us with a sense of good will with the approaching holidays.

This morning, students are tutoring and studying for their impending finals, food has been brought in and everyone is upbeat.  As for me, I’m grateful for the “moveable feast” moments in my life that always embrace me warmly as Christmas approaches and good will fills our atmosphere. I brought my watercolor to class, knowing there would be plenty of space to tinker with it.  Thanks to a desktop computer, I can look at photos of the garage still life on my monitor as I set up this watercolor across the room on the chalkboard tray and look at it, making critical notes of how to fine-tune the composition as it gets closer to its finish.  Already today I have done plenty of small detail corrections and adjustments, and I am getting drawn in closer and closer to these objects and all the memories associated with them.  And of course, reading Hemingway’s early cafe writings is flooding me with a sense of warmth and meaning, despite the cold, dark climate we’re experiencing outside.

Thanks for reading.

I paint in order to remember.

I journal when I feel alone.

I blog to remind myself I am not really alone.

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