Hello reader,
Here's a little story about my family's old typewriter...
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| PHOTO BY: CLAIRE DE BOER |
Many years ago when I was a child, we had an old typewriter.
I don’t really recall where the typewriter came from but I’d be prepared to bet
that it came with the big, faded green metal trunk that held a lot of old books
from a bookstore. Interestingly enough, that trunk contained one book that was
to change the course of my life, but more on that later, if ever.
So…the typewriter…it was really interesting to my siblings
and I and we’d spend many days tinkering with it. The typewriter new, it wasn’t
in great condition either but it worked fairly well. Perhaps its previous owner
had loved it greatly.
That camo green old typewriter had sticky keys and the key
bars would get stuck up on the platen when you typed and you had to bring them
down to continue typing, it needed oiling, I guess. It had a roll of ribbon
that usually came undone and we had to reroll it countless times, usually
ending up with inky fingers and hands which subsequently transferred inky
fingerprints to the paper. The ink on the ribbon was fading too, we actually
had to undo the roll to find ink rich parts to use.
I loved that typewriter. I loved how it didn’t really have a
‘backspace’ and you had to retype over a letter when you’ve madea mistake.
Well, at least that is what I did. I particularly loved the sound of hitting
the keys and the following sound of the bars hitting the platen, and how my
tiny fingers usually slipped and fell into the spaces between the keys when I
tried to type. We didn’t have a noiseless typerwriter, ours was noisy and that
was delighting to my young ears which were slowly losing their hearing. I don’t
remember what model it was, I don’t even
remember what I wrote on it and I don’t even remember whether I kept whatever I
wrote and then lost the papers.
What I remember is that the typewriter broke, was repaired
and then again broke. This time beyond repair I think, since we do not have it
anymore. We should have taken better care of it but you know how kids are; they
do not know the value of things and would just play with something they like
over and over until it broke due to overuse. Kids are really not careful.
Perhaps this is what makes them awesome. Maybe we all need to learn from kids
and love things without treading lightly or being too careful.
Today I’m typing this post on my PC. The keys are noisy but
it is clearly a different sound and there is no sound of the bars hitting a
platen. I do not have to roll paper, I do not have to change ribbons and I definitely
do not have inky fingers from typing but the premise is the same. Things have
changed a lot but in a way, are the same. I’m feeling a profound nostalgia and
I really would not mind having a typewriter. In fact, it is a need I need to
satisfy.
My aunt still has her typewriter. It’s similar to the one we
had and it is in her sewing room, broken, although I believe that it could
easily get restored. Maybe I should ask her for it but my aunt is a word lover.
I do not know of any word lover who would not like, or who would even part with
a typewriter today. If you are a fellow word lover and have a working
typewriter, I hope you cherish it and that you love it with an ardor of a young
child.
‘Til next time
-Bella
