Oak Park, IL: Day 1

I've decided to start my fantastic journey in Papa Hemingway's hometown of Oak Park, Illinois. Conveniently enough, Oak Park happens to be a suburb of Chicago. So, when I felt like leaving this bustling little suburb, I just had to slide on over to O'Hare, and catch the next plane out of there.

The travel agency saw fit to drop me off at the bed and breakfast I stayed at while in Oak Park. They set me up with a place called Under the Ginko Tree, and it was relatively close to my first day's destination. I woke up the first day at 10:00 am. It was a bit of a long night due to my getting settled at this quaint little bed and breakfast, so I took advantage of the warm feather bed, and I woke refreshed. Breakfast was simply amazing. I devoured a large Belgian waffle, a stack of chocolate chip pancakes, scrambled eggs, six strips of bacon, and about a quart of chocolate milk. I'm paying $75 (www.bnbfinder.com) a night to stay at this place, so I figured that I had better get my money's worth. With that in mind, I stuffed myself, and I believe I would've made Hemingway proud. After I finished feasting, I made reservations at the front desk for another night, and I strolled out from Under the Ginko Tree at 11:00 am. From there, I walked a couple of blocks over to the Hemingway Museum and birthplace. The admission charge was $7 (www.ehfop.org).

As I walked up the cobblestone steps of the old Victorian home, I imagined what it must have been like to grow up as a young Ernest Hemingway. My imagination only ran wilder when I saw pictures of baby Hemingway dressed up as a girl. I'm not sure what his mother was thinking; apparently she desperately wanted a miniature version of herself, but what she got was Ernest. At this time, i could hear my stomach growling so I stepped outside to find a bite to eat, and I happened upon a hot dog stand. So, I went all out, and ordered one with everything for the outrageous price of $5. After my lunch break, it was around 2:00 pm, and I made my way back into the museum.

I heard creaking as my feet met the floorboards, and my eye was caught by a display in the center of the room. It was Hemingway's childhood diary. I reflected upon the great importance of such a diary. This was were it all began. Ernest's diary had to be of vital importance in the development of his writing skills. I felt lucky to realize what the diary must've meant to Ernest, and to appreciate the influence it made on some of his greatest and most loved works.

I made it back to the bed and breakfast at 9:00 pm that night. I spent the rest of the evening watching a History Channel documentary on Hemingway's life. I thought it was an appropriate, if not ironic, end to the day.