The Magic of a Typewriter

When I was a freshman, or maybe a sophomore in high school, one of my classes was typing. Sitting down, looking at the keys for the first time, I never thought I'd be able to master such a funny looking machine. But it wasn't long before I felt comfortable sitting in front of it. That was due to the instructor. She put me at ease. Once I learned where to place my fingers on the keys, I was ready to go. I can still hear her putting the class through drills that taught us the location of the letters on the keys.

     "J-K-L-Semicolon." "A-S-D-F." 

She'd repeat those drills like stanzas in a song.

It wasn't long before I knew the keyboard. I loved sitting there typing with all my peers typing. It was a chorus of the keys. Humming and clicking along. When reaching the end of a line, the sound of bells dinging announced it was time to reach up, move the return bar and start all over again. 

My love of typewriters and typing stayed with me long after completing the class.

Years later the urge to write led me to a store in the downtown where I lived. The store sold all sorts of office supplies. Desks. Pencils. Pencil sharpeners. Pens. Notepads. Notebooks. Staplers. Paper. All kinds of paper. Paper clips. Rulers. Crayons. Markers. White-Out. Index cards. Just so much fun stuff, including typewriters. New, shiny typewriters complete with their own cases. 

I was so excited when picking out my very first typewriter. I knew which one I wanted. I'd seen it on display in the window. I was soon walking out the door with my typewriter. It was cream colored. I can't remember the brand. It didn't matter. I felt as if I'd purchased the moon.

That typewriter and I had many late nights and lots of rewrites. When computers came along, I laughed them off. I'd tell myself I'd never have use for such a sterile looking machine. My daughters urged me to get one. They told me how easy they were to use. Told me how I could save my stories. Told me I wouldn't have to go searching through piles of paper looking for something in particular that I'd written using my typewriter. Everything would be a click away. It took lots of time and lots of urging but I finally gave in. I bought a computer.

My biggest fear was losing everything. But that has never happened. The more I use the sterile machine, the more I like what I can do with it. I'm still learning.

Although I like what I can do with it, my sterile computer will never replace my typewriter, in my heart that is. To me, using a typewriter was more creative. Less complicated. There was no internet. It was just me and my typewriter, along with some white-out and lots of paper and the magic little bell telling me when to hit the return bar.