I am building a typewriter.
Those who know me are aware of my interest in typing machines as I have collected a few over the years, including a century-old Underwood No. 3 and an even older Wellington No. 2. I also acquired one of the earliest Underwood electrics that is both ugly and far too heavy for one dilettante to pick up.
None of them work, but the allure is impossible to resist. My parents got me a portable (all italic type for some odd reason) that I pecked on until I took a proper touch-typing class in high school. I had decent speed and somewhat less decent accuracy. No matter, I typed papers for school — slowly as they had to be perfectly done, including two spaces after periods, precise indents, no strikeovers and no Liquid Paper. No time for keggers in college. We were tough kids for a reason.
Later on, I would master the glorious IBM Selectric with its distinctive golf-ball shaped typing element. I was getting into typefaces and fonts by then and collecting replica pages from Gutenberg Bibles.
But even as Gutenberg’s press changed the habits of monkish calligraphers, computers turned typewriters into relics and doorstops. Good for collecting and sentiment, not so much for conducting business instantaneously and worldwide.
You can still find small enclaves of typewriters in town. Burke’s Book Store is something of a petting zoo for hunters and peckers, with a variety of machines that amaze children who have never seen such things.
My latest typing machine project came in the form of a gift for Father’s Day. I have taken over the dining room table with the 2,079 tiny pieces of plastic that will soon become a Lego Typewriter.
What, you say? A real, working Lego typewriter? Oh, don’t be silly. It doesn’t actually type, but it’s not about hammering out a breaking news story on deadline. That’s what the Mac is for, even with its cursed butterfly keyboard. The Lego is about the design, the construction, the feel of a splendidly engineered, um, toy. Yes, that’s what it is — it’s a Lego after all. But it’s incredibly cool. All those little pieces snapping together into an intricate assembly and I get to preside over how it all comes together.
This is a project that is beautifully designed. The pieces fit together flawlessly and the 260-page instruction manual is an example of how to beautifully and clearly explain a how-to.
There is much to be said for showing it off as well. My half-assembled project was recently observed by some visiting teenagers who were in our house because their mother required it. They were bored and prepared to be even more bored as the visit went on — until they laid eyes on the work in progress. They were impressed, which is a difficult achievement with that demographic. In fact, everyone of any age who sees it experiences some level of astonishment.
It’s certainly not about my skill — I just follow instructions — but it’s the realization that the fundamental connectivity that is characteristic of Legos can be so cleverly realized. One part fits neatly into another, and after a while, all those thousands of tiny plastic bits come together into something that pretty much makes you want to smile.
And so, because this is a letter from an editor and we’re expected to discourse on serious things, I am compelled to make a serious connection. This being election week in Memphis, we can make an imperfect comparison to the importance of voting. Nobody is required to vote, but for those who do, it’s part of being on the team that shapes our society.
This particular Shelby County cycle has a ballot that has around 2,079 choices, and you would be well advised to take an instruction manual, or perhaps just a cheat sheet, with you into the voting booth. It gets you into the game and gives you a say in how it should play out. (Let’s start with having a better way of choosing judges, shall we?)
But you can’t construct your assembly without getting familiar with the parts, the process, and what you want to be the end result. Whether building a toy typewriter or choosing who you want to run a government, you are required to work at it.
Take the time. Filter out the theatrical outrages from this side or that. Beware the power hungry who smile too much. Determine who really wants to make our government more responsive. Reward competence. Make sure the pieces fit together.
And take pride in your achievement.
The Memphis Flyer is now seeking candidates for its editor position. Send your resume to hr@contemporary-media.com.
