August 26, 2016 | Ever wonder why there's a manual typewriter on my HOME page? Or why my logo is a typewriter key? It's because I love manual typewriters. They make me grateful for my MacBook Pro.
I took Typing 101 on a manual typewriter my junior year of high school. Don't smirk. I did NOT graduate during the Dark Ages. It was 1983. But, it was Idaho in 1983, and my school district hadn't quite grasped some of the world's technological breakthroughs for their typing classrooms.
I didn't mind. There was something enthralling about TAP TAP TAPPING out the rhythm of the words with my fingers on the keys while the corresponding type hammers swung up to STRIKE their letters onto the page. Adding the lovely DING! alerting the end of the line and the syncopated sound of SWIPING the carriage return lever as it ZINGED the carriage back into place to begin a new line, and the whole thing became a percussionistic symphony of sound.
Don't get me wrong--the first time I used an IBM Selectric with a CORRECT key, it was as if the heavens had opened and rained down repentance - repentance at my fingertips - my right pinkie fingertip, to be exact. I ceremoniously bowed to leave a kiss upon it, no less respectfully than if I'd kissed the jeweled ring of the King. Power makes everything better, and having repentance at your fingertips was heady power if there ever was any. The whirring of the motor and the robotic spinning of the typeball as it positioned itself before tilting to tap its letters onto the paper were mesmerizing in their own right. One-button correction. A Godsend. If only actual repentance were as easy as hitting the backspace key.
The intoxicating feeling of standing on the cusp of technology was even more potent than when my parents brought home our first microwave oven, or our very own VCR, and those were pretty dang exciting days. The world has advanced in many ways since I was a little girl playing "office" with my friends. I try to take time out from using the 101 apps on my iPhone to be grateful for those advances.
How, you ask? It might not be the most conventional way to remember to be grateful, but I keep old stuff around the house, so that when I see it, I'm grateful I don't have to use it.
Odd, you say? Hoarder, you suspect? Well, it works for me. I have a metal rug beater hanging on the wall in my kitchen. Every time I glance up at it, I think "Wow. I'm glad I don't have to drag my rugs into the back yard, hang them on the clothes line, and beat the heck out of them with that thing." I appreciate my Dyson vacuum. I really do.
I have a butter churn that makes me grateful I don't have to milk the cows and separate the cream and churn that cream into submission. I have heavy irons with wooden handles that make me grateful I don't have to build a fire in the oven and heat the irons on the stove top to get the wrinkles out of my clothing. I have a treadle sewing machine that makes me grateful I don't have to pedal for weeks in order to have clothing to wear. I have a hand-crank ice cream maker that makes me glad I don't have to crank. I can get a carton of Ben and Jerry's out of my freezer with no cranking, whatsoever, and that freezer reminds me I don't have to keep perishables in the river. My grandfather's adding machine makes me grateful for my calculator app. The list goes on and on.
The funny thing about these items that spurn gratitude in my heart, is that at one point in history, all of them were advances, themselves. It makes me wonder what the future holds. It won't be long before our children and grandchildren look at photos of our smart tablets and smart watches and giggle at their Neanderthaloid uses.
I like tapping on my laptop. Maybe, someday, I'll simply "think" toward my computer and my thoughts will appear on the screen. My thoughts won't come out of my head perfectly edited. They'll need revision. I'll still need a CORRECT key. And I'll still be grateful for the joy I feel while typing on a manual typewriter.
Ever wonder why it's a German keyboard on my HOME page? It's a nod to my eldest son, who served a mission in Germany. In his very first email he complained about it taking forever to type an email in English with a German keyboard. Of course, he was sitting in an internet cafe, typing on a computer keyboard. Now, every time he visits my website (and I'm sure it is often) he will remember his frustration, and be grateful he can use the tiny English keyboard that pops up on the screen of his smartphone whenever he wants to compose an email.
When my grandkids ask me about the relics gathering dust on the shelves in my house, I'll explain their long-forgotten uses, and my grandkids will be amazed. Or horrified. Either way, I'm passing down the gratitude to the next generation. It's only fitting, since someday I'm passing down the relics, too.
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