Ernest Hemingway 'was secret Soviet spy', Never think that war, no matter how necessary, nor how justified is not a crime.

I got lost again. I had somehow gotten off the bus ride in the middle of nowhere, Idaho. instead of Montana. Being in nowhere Idaho. However, in this case, there was a town of sorts. I quickly found the local library.

To my surprise, they were selling their used books. And? Well, for 50 cents, how could I go wrong? I purchased a box of what looked like a writer’s mix and match of writings, journals, a few signed books. Kansas writing style, a diary of sorts, and some rather old looking newspaper clippings.

Why? Well, they were going to throw them away. And for 50 cents, I figured I had something to do. While I awaited the next bus.

Saved me 8.99 for one book and I got a box of them. Stranger in a strange little Idaho town.

So, I was hungry and went around a few blocks and found this place to eat. Casino Bar. Went in and ordered a burger and fries. The bar had like three customers.

One guy who kept on talking about the time he helped some guy named Ernest home. Why was it important?

No idea. Just the guy was like 6’9 and, for being like 80 years old, seemed to still be tough as nails. So I listened.

Evidently, Ernest, whomever he was, liked to drink and write. And forgive me, the guy’s name telling the story was something French Joe Noblesse uterine or something another, or maybe it was Jospeh.

Joe went into how he had to manhandle Ernest to get him home after a drinking binge.

Anyway, Ernest evidently like drinking mojitos. And Joe let me call him that because he always seemed to enjoy giving his full name. Anyway, Joe said that Ernest was hitting on the owner of this establishment mother. Meaning, evidently, this was an old story. The bartender’s face was red to pink upon the man’s tale.

Joe went on saying how he had an autograph by Ernest and an unpublished story about how Joe and Ernest went fishing at some lost creek in Montana or Idaho. The tale made little sense, to be honest. I was more into my food. And Joe got his fries and stopped talking while he ate.

Thus, with some time. I started to go through box I had just purchased. It was packed with material. And what surprised me? WELLL... I recognized some of the handwriting from a different tale.. https://www.minds.com/Talon123/blog/hemingway-sure-i-found-something-of-his-once-upon-a-time-1261724420573310976 A style guide from some newspaper in Kansas.

Seems I had found Ernest from my great uncle’s study again. Seems that his stories had improved greatly. However, he seemed paranoid and a bit more political at this point in his writings.

Then I found something totally unexpected. A personal letter from Castro to Ernest. Now my Spanish sucks. Let’s be honest. I spent a few years in Bolivia and it seemed the letter indicated that Castro was mad at some guy named Chi for causing a riff between Ernest and Castro.

Anyway, the letter was interesting. Some gibberish with Argo and then a fishing story Evidently Ernest and Castro went fishing and things got Risque with three Cuban ladies, which are mentioned.

Anyway, after finishing his fries, Joe got up and amber out of the bar. I asked the bartender if he would be okay. And the bartender just laughed.

Said Joe would be fine. I asked why he put up with someone telling a story like that? The bartender laughed again and said the local legend that his mom had an affair with this Ernest person was something of a topic that he liked.

I had to ask what happened to Ernest? The bartender looked around the room. Then whispered, the CIA killed him.

I had to ask why?

Because they were paranoid about his writing.

The bartender went back into the back. And I went back to browsing papers in my box. til 4 pm, which was when I had to head over to the bus stop to get on the bus again.

Made me wonder what my uncle’s books are doing now, So I called my great cousin and asked. Evidently, I could have as much of the library as I wanted. Because they were selling the old place and space and moving experience were too high for them. So, they were going to donate them to the library. I said I would take all the Braum, Ernest, and a few other books on four shelves. I said how much. And to my surprise. I was given them. Because I was one of the few people that asked.