As I entered the lobby on a sunny Sunday morning early in the new year, a fellow member of our church family stopped me and asked if I'd like an antique typewriter. It took me all of two seconds to say "yes!"
Little did our friend know that the historical writer in me had been pining after just such a typewriter since I began actively pursuing my writing career ten years ago. I would often stop in front of the antique stores in town and gaze longingly at the models in their front windows that would come and go over the years. The hefty prices being asked for them were well beyond my budget.
Lo and behold, God chose to give me this desire of my heart via the generosity of a friend. My husband helped the gentleman heft the 1920s typewriter into the trunk of our car after the service, and we took the beauty home, where it now occupies a place of honor in my office.
One look at this piece of history, and I'm swept back in time. I remember my days in typing class pounding out endless fjfjfj and jkljkl exercises. Although I didn't use a machine as old as this, seeing the typewriter helps transport me to my story world, as well.
Do you have memories of typing class?