Typewriter (Photo credit: mikeymckay)
I saw a typewriter in the basement of an antique store in Rutherfordton, North Carolina. It was a manual machine, in a drab green case. It looked as if the ribbon was still functional. I started to buy it.
The young man in my charge is about to enter college. I thought it would be a good social statement or something to give him a manual typewriter and a pack of paper. After all, as I was thinking about it, I was filled with memories of staying up nights typing papers for classes in Biblical Studies, English, and History. It was harder to finish on time in those days.
Can we talk about card catalogues? Those things used to take up large amounts of square footage in the library at my college. You could remove a whole drawer of file cards, set it on a table that was up high enough to make peering at it easy. You then manually jotted down the information on whatever slip of paper you had handy. Then you went to the stacks and looked for the books to pull. You tried to be quiet so as not to disturb anyone else. Conversations might ensue if you saw someone who shared a research interest, or had some gossip about someone you knew. But you talked in whispers or low tones. No texting.
Not many people today even think about separating the sexes, (and indeed, perhaps that was misguided), but we had “interdorm visitation” in limited hours near weekends, and on Tuesday nights. You had to sign in to girl’s dorms, and sign back out or they’d come looking for you. Our forward-thinking class officers fought valiantly to add about six hours to the visitation schedule. Rebels!
Are we any less educated because we learned in such an old-fashioned environment? I think not. In fact, I wonder if manual typewriters and card catalogues should be required for students today. Perhaps limited computer use, ban cell phones, and force conversation with real people, and that in complete sentences.
Oh well, the more things change . . .
By the Waters of Possum Creek 