I finally got my mom’s typewriter repaired.
I’ve decided that I’m going to bang something out on that roughly 77-year-old machine once a week and post it. Don’t expect it to be more than a phrase or something. I’m going to do a running tally on that page until I decide to write someone a letter or something.
Also, it probably won’t exactly be weekly, because I’m not taking it with me on my vacations.
There’s so much to learn about a manual typewriter, this Remington Noiseless Portable. I’ve forgotten a lot. I didn’t know a lot to begin with. I had an electric typewriter up until 11th grade. I didn’t have to set margins manually. Or figure out how to center it. Or have “backspace” be where 1 should be. Or have three fractions, a raised dot, a cent sign but no plus sign to speak of.
It’s all levers and springs, clanks and clacks. From what the repairman said, it definitely is a noiseless compared to other manuals.
I keep checking it because I wonder whether I left it on, if it needs charging, where the cord is.
Thank Tesla for power, but I sometimes wonder if we’ve unnecessarily electrified too much of our lives.
I’m going to enjoy this journey with the platen, these times of hitting the return lever instead of “enter,” of pressing “shift” to find that something shifts, of not being able to obliterate mistakes without starting over, remembering that l is 1, typing until I hear the ding.