The Sweet Sadness

July, 1958

I Was Sitting in the Fausto Bar on Colon Street in Havana one October night, feeling very sorry for myself.I was 36 years old, a reasonably successful, recently divorced businessman. I had received a small legacy of land on the Isle of Pines, south of Cuba, and had come down to see what it was worth. It wasn't worth much. I sold it for $900. I also had a legacy from the Emperor of Japan – eight wounds acquired trying to crash a beach party at Tulagi. I would have sold them for a lot less than $9...