Not Just for Jewelry

I have this lovely old Corona sitting in my studio where I see it everyday. Sometimes I use it to type bits of text for my journal or collages, but usually it just sits there, redolent of a past age.

When I was in junior high, my dad brought home an ancient Remington from the Light and Power Office that was in a back room and now being thrown out. It was black, huge, cast iron and weighed a ton. He thought I might enjoy it. Boy howdy, did I!! On the weekends I would sit for hours and pretend to be a '30's journalist banging out a breaking story, or a languid 20's author writing the great American novel.

I still have a few poems (very mediocre poems) that I painstakingly picked out on that great old machine. Looking at the faded type, with a "g" that always slipped below the line, rings back to those faraway Sunday afternoons. While the rest of the house dozed, I broke the silence with the tap tap tap of old round keys, and dreamed.