avatarD Beasley

Summary

The author recounts their childhood experience of inheriting and using a green, heavy typewriter with enthusiasm despite its flaws and maintenance needs.

Abstract

The author describes their first encounter with a typewriter at the age of twelve, a hand-me-down from an older sibling. Despite its worn condition, with keys clogged with dirt and a sticky 'p' key, the author found joy in the tactile process of maintaining the machine, such as cleaning the keys and rewinding the ink ribbon. These tasks were a welcome break from writing and provided a sense of satisfaction and usefulness, even though they were not keen on cleaning. The author, who also played classical piano, appreciated the dexterity required for these activities and continued to write poems with the typewriter, tasting the ink and embracing their laziness in maintaining the machine.

Opinions

  • The author values the tactile experience and satisfaction derived from the manual maintenance of the typewriter, comparing it to the dexterity gained from playing classical piano.
  • There is a sense of nostalgia and fondness for the typewriter, as the author enjoyed the process of using and maintaining it, despite its imperfections.
  • The act of writing on the typewriter, including the ritual of rewinding the ribbon and even tasting the ink, is associated with pleasure and creativity, as the author wrote poems and embraced their lazy approach to maintenance.
  • The author seems to appreciate the pause and reflection that the maintenance tasks provided, suggesting that these moments were as enjoyable as the writing itself.

The Great Typewriter

Object

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At the age of twelve, I inherited my first typewriter from a brother returning home from college. Someone had painted the typewriter green. It felt like it weighed about twenty pounds, of a good thick metal.

The keys needed cleaning. Its letters were choked with grime and dust. One key, p, always stuck, and I looked forward to the momentary pause to help it back in place. Instead of replacing the ribbon which had had its day, I’d rewind it with my fingers, the activity of which required dexterity. I enjoyed rewinding the ribbon. I had plenty of dexterity from years of classical piano and again, I could pause from writing and enjoy myself doing something ordinary. I liked feeling useful; I didn’t care if I was lazy.

After the ribbon was rewound, I’d lick the ink from my fingers (it tasted great), and resume writing. I wrote poems. I was pretty bad and was even worse when it came to cleaning the keys — because I never did — and I wrote anyway.

Writing
Writers On Writing
Self Improvement
Life Lessons
Illumination
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