Reading your post, my heart was gripped by a longing for the touch of the qwerty keys of my youth-the clunky Royal of my 10th grade typing class, the automatic miracle of the first IBM Selectric, the forgiving memory-save of my little tabletop word processor (1991?). It could save an entire page of resume without mistakes or typos! With the press of a single key, it amazed family and friends acting like a player piano typing out its little ditty unaided.
Thank you Elizabeth, you have given me a quest and a target for scouring old antique shops.
So is that a nice way to say I’ve corrupted you entirely? (Just kidding…) Your longing is palpable, and there’s no doubt, those antique typewriters have an emotional magnetism. Happy scouring!
I learned to type on my mom's manual typewriter. She was a journalist and columnist and owned several gigantic typewriters. They were so huge and heavy and hard to use, we let them go in the auction when we sold all their belongings and the farm on the same painful day. I still feel a twinge of regret. The one typewriter I kept was the "portable" typewriter (it still weighs a lot) Mom lugged around her college campus in the 1950s.
You might also like John Green's essay about the QWERTY keyboard from The Anthropocene Reviewed (the essay offers the history of the keyboard weaving with John's history with the keyboard). I connect with what he wrote: "The keyboard is my path to having thoughts, and also my path to sharing them. I can’t play an instrument, but I can bang on this literary piano, and when it’s going well, a certain percussive rhythm develops. Sometimes—not every day, certainly, but sometimes—knowing where the letters are allows me to feel like I know where the words are."
Oh, Ann, this is such a wonderful memory and fantastic quote from John Green’s essay. I love the image of banging on a “literary piano!” And what results really is a kind of rhythm — even a melody when we really get it right. Thank you so much for sharing.
When I moved away from home (Delaware to Maine, then back to Delaware, then off to New Mexico), I received a lot of handwritten notes from my Mom and Aunt Agnes. Mom wrote all hers – beautiful longhand. Aunt Agnes - always the secretary - would often type her letters. At the end of the letter, she’d write a few special notes, sometimes in Gregg Shorthand (she was testing me). I remember that she’d add little do-dad notes in the typed pages. An “oops!” with a smiley face where she miss-typed, or a “wow, wish you could have tasted this” when talking about Mom’s baked chicken, or a “we got three inches of snow!” Occasionally, she’d insert an obituary of someone who went to my high school (her note: did you know him?) or the NYT Crossword she’d completed. Reminiscing and the mind wanders at my age ...
I got to thinking about The Keyboard.
I had typing class for three years in high school (along with shorthand), and I got to thinking, “Why is the keyboard laid out the way it is?” Here are a couple of links that answer that very question.
I love this stroll down memory lane, Karen, and especially appreciate the two QWERTY keyboard links -- fascinating stuff to understand why the keyboard was designed the way it was and why it has stayed almost the same in all these decades.
I remember taking 'typing' in junior high and loved the sound of a classroom of 30 kids all typing in unison - I loved it.
I also remember getting a typewriter from my grandparents for my high school graduation and thought it was the greatest thing (1988 - so not quite as classic looking as some of the typewriters you pictured).
Reading your post, my heart was gripped by a longing for the touch of the qwerty keys of my youth-the clunky Royal of my 10th grade typing class, the automatic miracle of the first IBM Selectric, the forgiving memory-save of my little tabletop word processor (1991?). It could save an entire page of resume without mistakes or typos! With the press of a single key, it amazed family and friends acting like a player piano typing out its little ditty unaided.
Thank you Elizabeth, you have given me a quest and a target for scouring old antique shops.
So is that a nice way to say I’ve corrupted you entirely? (Just kidding…) Your longing is palpable, and there’s no doubt, those antique typewriters have an emotional magnetism. Happy scouring!
I learned to type on my mom's manual typewriter. She was a journalist and columnist and owned several gigantic typewriters. They were so huge and heavy and hard to use, we let them go in the auction when we sold all their belongings and the farm on the same painful day. I still feel a twinge of regret. The one typewriter I kept was the "portable" typewriter (it still weighs a lot) Mom lugged around her college campus in the 1950s.
You might also like John Green's essay about the QWERTY keyboard from The Anthropocene Reviewed (the essay offers the history of the keyboard weaving with John's history with the keyboard). I connect with what he wrote: "The keyboard is my path to having thoughts, and also my path to sharing them. I can’t play an instrument, but I can bang on this literary piano, and when it’s going well, a certain percussive rhythm develops. Sometimes—not every day, certainly, but sometimes—knowing where the letters are allows me to feel like I know where the words are."
https://www.wnycstudios.org/podcasts/anthropocene-reviewed/episodes/anthropocene-reviewed-qwerty-keyboard-and-kauai-o-o?tab=transcript
Oh, Ann, this is such a wonderful memory and fantastic quote from John Green’s essay. I love the image of banging on a “literary piano!” And what results really is a kind of rhythm — even a melody when we really get it right. Thank you so much for sharing.
When I moved away from home (Delaware to Maine, then back to Delaware, then off to New Mexico), I received a lot of handwritten notes from my Mom and Aunt Agnes. Mom wrote all hers – beautiful longhand. Aunt Agnes - always the secretary - would often type her letters. At the end of the letter, she’d write a few special notes, sometimes in Gregg Shorthand (she was testing me). I remember that she’d add little do-dad notes in the typed pages. An “oops!” with a smiley face where she miss-typed, or a “wow, wish you could have tasted this” when talking about Mom’s baked chicken, or a “we got three inches of snow!” Occasionally, she’d insert an obituary of someone who went to my high school (her note: did you know him?) or the NYT Crossword she’d completed. Reminiscing and the mind wanders at my age ...
I got to thinking about The Keyboard.
I had typing class for three years in high school (along with shorthand), and I got to thinking, “Why is the keyboard laid out the way it is?” Here are a couple of links that answer that very question.
Qwerty keyboard via the Library of Congress https://blogs.loc.gov/inside_adams/2023/04/qwerty/
Qwerty keyboard via the Smithsonian https://www.smithsonianmag.com/.../fact-of-fiction-the.../
I love this stroll down memory lane, Karen, and especially appreciate the two QWERTY keyboard links -- fascinating stuff to understand why the keyboard was designed the way it was and why it has stayed almost the same in all these decades.
This was a fun walk down memory lane :-)
I remember taking 'typing' in junior high and loved the sound of a classroom of 30 kids all typing in unison - I loved it.
I also remember getting a typewriter from my grandparents for my high school graduation and thought it was the greatest thing (1988 - so not quite as classic looking as some of the typewriters you pictured).
Thanks, Kim! I had fun researching it and conjuring up my own typewriter memories.