Learning to write

Learning to write was, shall we say, traumatic.  It's not that I did not want to learn to write, but was never good at it.  My first scribbles at home were as anyone might expect, wiggly, large, backwards, and malformed.  Kindergarten was the first real test of my skills, with basic math and three letter words.  I quickly found that if I could not read my own writing, neither could anyone else.  I did not finish that year with a penmanship grade higher than a "U," unsatisfactory.  If you do not know this system, it went something like this, E - Excellent, G - Good, S - Satisfactory, N - Needs improvement, U - Unsatisfactory.  So, Kindergarten, and I was already failing penmanship.  

I clearly remember working on my writing skills during the summer, working through the copy book, and using the handwriting tablet provided by the school.  You know the paper, with a little dotted line 2/3 up each space to indicate where the body of each lower-case letter is to go to.  I remember it looking good, and I was proud of what I had done.  I was even using the yellow pencil, and not the fat, red, beginners pencil.  I returned to school certain I would pass penmanship and not look like a fool.  My first assignment, copying words from the board, earned me another U in penmanship.  HOW?  Adding to my trauma, I was now made to use a big red pencil with a bright blue triangular grip announcing to the world at large that I was incompetent with my handwriting.  

I continued to struggle with my writing through all of the grades that they actually graded you on your penmanship, that was third in my school.  Never once did I break N.  If anything, my writing became worse when we were required to use a pen.  I had those horrible BIC Cristal pens, which scratched across the paper, did not lay down enough ink, blobbed at the end, and were so tiny my hand cramped using them.  I should have realized the teachers made me use the grip for a reason, so I would not have to grip the pencil like a crab just to hold it steady.  Rather, I found that if one popped the cartridge out and pull the top off, the taper of front and slickness of the barrel made for the perfect spit ball tube.  Combine that with a cornet mouthpiece (we all started music in third grade) and one could get a wad to stick to the blackboard from across the room.  Brilliant.  The second half of primary school was filled with returned papers with underlines asking indicating words they could not read.  I first experimented with the family typewriter at some point in here, acquiring a portable Royal as well, at a garage sale.  I was so enamored with it that I walked all the way home to get my saved money, and getting back just as they were packing up.  I had $20 in change and singles.  I lugged that monster 1 1/2 miles uphill.  Still have it.

Progressing to junior high, I actually had some anxiety about writing, I remember my siblings telling me there was a lot of in class writing.  The summer prior, in my wanderings about Berkeley with my best friend, I found a pen.  It was a Parker (like the Rialto) that took cartridges.  Being Berkeley, there were stationers about, lots of them.  So I stopped in and asked what kind of refill it took.  They handed me a pack of black cartridges.  I took it home and was hooked.   

My handwriting changed.  My nerves about the in-class essays changed, everything looked great, until I found out about how fast these cartridges ran out.   Back to the stationer.  Again, for $2 I got a converter, which let me refill my pen with ink from a bottle.  I purchased a second Parker, a fairly cheap one, something I'm sure was under 10 bucks.  And it came with a converter!  Joy, now two pens, full every day for school.  I still have those pens 30 years later.   The top one is the one I found, and the bottom the one I bought.

I ran against ups and downs during my Jr and Sr high years, teachers that applauded me for using a proper "Writing instruments" while others complained that I wasted paper because the ink bled through (paper is for a whole other post) and I used only one side.  The day my grandfather, who was one bad-ass engineer, saw me writing with a fountain pen was one of my writing highlights.  In response he pulled out his engineers field drafting kit, given to him by his brother-in-law.  He carefully put together the pens, and dipped them in a bottle of India ink.  He spent minutes concentrating, just pulling straight lines, then carefully lettered his name, and cleaned all the pens.  "That's why none of those new drawings look write, there's no soul."  He then handed me that kit.  To this day, I have not had the strength to use it.  

What am I saying?  I'm not really sure, but if we're going to write, we should choose something we're comfortable with.  I think I'm also saying, we should be open to some older technologies that use fewer resources, last longer than a year or two, and by spending a few extra bucks (sometimes, not, that's another post) employ people in a craft that can sustain them financially, and brings us joy at the same time.