Typewriters

A bartender in my local watering hole remarked she’d recently visited a vintage typewriter shop with a friend and how much the place excited her. The friend purchased a machine and she wanted one, too.

Well, I said, I have three typewriters at home that I don’t use. Would you like one? She jumped up and clapped. YES!

I described the three models and she made her choice. After finishing my beer and the letter I was writing, I drove home, retrieved the typewriter from the garage, and returned to the joint. I presented the typewriter in its case and she was positively giddy. She said she wanted to get back into writing poetry and I said typewriters are great for that because it’s so easy to space words and punctuation—by using your hands. Not a cursor!

The episode reminded me of my history with typewriters:

My high school graduation present from my mother was an electric typewriter that I used all the way through grad school.

Cranking out notes on a typewriter when I was traveling the Alaska Highway in a camper with Ray, my great dog. This trip was an attempt to become a writer. It failed then, but bore much fruit later because of the nature of the failure.

The typewriters I always gave to the editors of the school newspapers and literary reviews I advised over the years. I wonder how many still have them.

Th typewriters that I often used as teaching tools in my classrooms.

I believe it is time for me to begin using typewriters again.

So, I visited the typewriter shop the bartender had mentioned, bought a new ribbon from the groovy sideburned proprietor (with typewriters tattooed on his arms) and even considered buying a little German portable, but refrained.

Exactly what I will write on my typewriter is unknown to me. I do believe I’ll hold a daily morning session on the deck with a little coffee and jazz on the radio. We’ll see where it goes.

I know it will make a pleasant sound for the neighbors.