Sue Norvell read this piece on Saturday, April 27, 2019, as part of the Tompkins County Public Library Readathon fundraising event.
Ah, the typewriter. Really, a brute of a machine. They were heavy to carry.
They required strong hands and fingers to depress the keys smartly enough to make that oh-so-satisfying [snap] as the metal arm swung up and out to print the letter 't', [clack] as the ‘h’ hits the paper,
then [...tap, WHING!] as the letter ‘e’ ends the line.
The bell dings, saying, “whiz the carriage back, begin anew."
[Whizzzz, clunk. Clack snapa tap tap snapa tap tap…]
Your fingertips are cupped by the metal ridges running ‘round the keys.
They fit each other: the letter B and the left index finger, [snap]
the S and the right ring finger, [snap]
reach up for an I,
down for an X, [tap,tap]
then stretch with the thumb for the space bar —
(double space at the end of a sentence, please!)
[whunk whunk]
Remember how the the shift keys worked? No auto capitalization here!
Depress the key, the carriage rises, [bump]
capital B hurries to begin a new complete thought [snap]
The carriage drops again for the lower case ‘e’ [thud, snap] and you’re off:
[Bump snap thud snap snap tap-a tap, clack tap-a-tap snap …. whunk whunk]
You say your prose is fading? The poem’s vanishing? Or worse, never making it to the page at all?
The ribbon needs replacing!
Now, of course, the stains and odors on your fingers need vigorous cleaning,
or your work will be smudged.
“How many carbon copies did you say?”
One mistake, many layers.
[Crinkle, rub, rub, crinkle, rub, crinkle, rub…. mutter, mutter... cuss, cuss, cuss]
Whew.
Finished.
Roll the paten, free the paper
sign it: “Henry…”
address the envelope,
fold the letter........ lick lick lick. [STAMP]
DONE!
But now remember, typewriters did not lend themselves to impulsiveness
nor did they limit characters available
for either reasoned, rational thoughts
or nasty, rauchy rants
The effort required insisted on intention, allowed for more reflection.
Perhaps this machine’s finest hours were in the rash letters left unshared,
the insults never sent
Lets us consider this blessing: there was no “send” button.
