Hemingway Meets Jelly Roll

 

“I hate the man I used to be, But he'll always be a part of me, right now looking at my past…I know it’s unpretty.”--- Jelly Roll

“I love sleep. My life has the tendency to fall apart when I'm awake, you know?” ---Hemingway

 One classic struggle, two men, two souls. Hemingway seems a man broken by tension. A man’s man by reputation. The four wives, the whiskey and emotional polarity, all hint at a soul not sated. In contrast his experiences were bigger than life. His writing rich and vibrant, he poured himself into everything he did.

Jelly Roll is the biggest artist on the country music scene. Not the man’s man Hemingway was. Incarcerated for much of his young life, his daughter Bailee was born while he was in jail. That crushed him. He turned to the gospel he’d heard as a child. His music is his story. He plays it close to the bone. It resonates.  

Both struggling with darkness and their love for whiskey. Hemingway certainly; and would have benefited from current pharmacology. Jelly Roll shares part of how he was healed from self-pharmacology through 12-steps, “Hardly sobered up, already wanna quit quittin’, sweaten’ in an old church basement, wishin’ I was wasted.”

At 19 Hemingway was on the frontlines delivering candy when he was hit by machine-gun fire and 200 metal fragments. A priest administered last rites. As a result he converted to Catholicism. Later, he “more formally” converted” upon marrying his second, Catholic, wife. Some credit these ‘conversions’ to his vision and moral landscape. Whether he was committed to the framework of the church or to the risen Christ, his writing reflected the three great transcendentals of truth, goodness and beauty.

Knowing God doesn’t guarantee good art. Faulty coping mechanisms aren’t easily slayed. It’s surgery. In Christ, in art, in healing, fulness necessitates leaning into the blade. “There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”

Lavish Libations

 

Once outlawed, always American with a tinge of sweetness! No single sip started our pursuit. The adventure began on a couch. Streamed, not sipped---Neat, the Story of Bourbon. Novice noses already used to experiencing rich nuanced flavors of coffee, wine and beer. As the saying goes, ‘If life’s not a great olfactory experience, then it’s nothing at all.’

Sonic slushy sweet it isn’t. I once grew corn in my backyard. Fresh corn isn’t like grocery store corn. Flavorful but still corn. Bourbon isn’t only corn, it’s 80 proof, maybe 100. There’s a burn, a bite that bursts in the mouth and coalesces in the gullet. Corn is the key to bourbon, but whiskey is a wider road.

The wife’s becoming connoisseur of the Old Fashioned. I’m finding I lean toward a rye. Friends, waiters and whiskey flights are good exposure. So came my introduction to Skrewball’s peanut butter whiskey! As a man addicted to all things peanut this had to be in the arsenal. Water or no water? Cocktail? Or neat; pure and at room temperature.

What about that whole Christian and alcohol thing? Say ‘speakeasy.’ I’ve fallen off both sides of the horse. Christ followers walk in this tension. Legalism is a list of rules and regs, do this and don’t do that’s. Liberty is an emphasis on freedom in everything. Grace is the over arching principle that we are all screw ups and Christ alone has covered our sins.

Upon dedication of the temple Hezekiah called for whole-burnt-offerings and lavish libations (2 Chron 29). One author aptly states that Israel celebrated with whiskey and barbeque. Paraphrasing the Poet Preacher, “Enjoy bourbon! This is your reward in life and in your toil.” Enjoying the piquancy of whiskey adds accent and highlight to this life. For mood or season, straight or on rocks it flavors life. For the rest of life’s course, always grace, always ‘neat.’

Photo by Edgar Moran on Unsplash