The Typewriter

An old manual typewriter sitting near a window of an antique shop begged me to come in and look for paper. Did it still work? Was the carriage free or is it just the shell well worn machine? I had to know. The proprietor of the shop, paper in hand, met me by the machine. He answered my questions. Yes, it worked, the carriage free a couple of keys tended to stick once in a while, but, after all, it’s not new. Trying to make the sale, he asked me to try it out. Then told me the three-figure price.

I still have the typewriter used by my mother to write Christmas letters, record our family history, to duplicate recipes for friends, and, by my father, to write important business letters. They learned how to type while in high school in the early 1940s, a was skill that served them well throughout their lives. When I was a kid my parents used the typewriter as bribery to encourage me to spend more time studying my spelling words. I learned how to compose thoughts before putting them on paper. There were no do-overs and spell check when we typed on the manual machines. Little did I know how important this skill would be throughout my career.

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