Impact

Preparations began the night before...










As usual, the joy of pulling together a typecast is tempered by the cringing horror at my inability to spell. In my defense: it was early, I had not had coffee yet, and I had just hoofed it up a couple of hills to the pre-selected spot. But what a view! That's Mount Diablo, in the San Francisco Bay Area. There are far worse places to sit and be inspired on a summer morning, even without proper caffeine dosing beforehand.

As Richard rightly points out, this invented celebration has taken on a life of its own. I never expected that well into the 21st century we'd be fetishizing typewriters with wirelessly-connected pocket computers. It's a funny old world. But of course QWERTY and its cousins live on strong in our pockets. We're all carrying a piece of Sholes with us, and I don't think anyone's ready to say farewell to their keyboards just yet, physical or virtual. It's hard to get attached to a poem that's been "swiped."

Typed on a Smith-Corona Corsair Deluxe

Turf and Surf with the Typopigeon

As threatened, the temperatures today were what I call one hundred and stupid outside. We're generally spoiled in this part of California because we lack the smothering summertime humidity of other parts of the country, such as those where I grew up. Still adapted to the dry Arizona climate, though, Eugene did as the natives do, which is to cower inside behind heavy curtained windows and try to keep cool.

My youngest made off with him to read him a number of books, but soon they both appeared and requested that I dig out the marble-run game, a favorite indoor activity. Eugene quickly found himself in the middle of things...




Eventually, though, our thoughts turned to fresh air and sunshine, and so, properly sunscreened and be-toweled, we headed off to a neighborhood pool. He quickly made friends with the natives...



...and then enjoyed a fine afternoon in the water. I don't know if pigeons are natural swimmers, but Eugene took to the water like a pro, showing us all his "hang six" surf technique.

Eugene Onegin, Bird About Town

(For Adney the Younger)

Noble typopigeon Eugene is settling in nicely for his visit to Northern California. Today he accompanied me on my regular Friday lunchtime trip to the local branch of the library.

Concord, California is home to Dave Brubeck, honorary typospherian Tom Hanks, and is a sister city with Kitakami, Japan. We did go past "Brubeck Park" on the way to the library, and Eugene nobly volunteered to represent Mr. Hanks and the rest of the typewriter crowd as we paused at the small garden outside the library.





We paused briefly, I should say, as we're entering one of those weeks where temperatures shoot up into triple digits. We retreated indoors to bask in air-conditioned comfort and check out the selections. Eugene made himself at home...



...and settled in with some light reading while I scoped out the CDs.



Today's selection was an Erik Satie compilation, something to mellow out with at the end of a busy week. Eugene had a few problems with my noise-cancelling headphones, and neither of us were entirely clear on where a pigeons' ears are actually located. This, however, did not seem correct.



A little quick Google-fu got us sorted out, though, and with the aid of some office supplies, Eugene was soon able to enjoy the lyricism of Satie, as realized by Reinbert de Leeuw.



Personally, I find Satie rather sad, and I suppose it had a similar effect on Eugene, so far from home. Clearly he is a creature of the wind, and even a glass-walled cage is not the same as feeling the breeze flowing beneath your flight feathers, or finding a half-eaten hot dog next to the sidewalk. (I cannot deny Eugene's urban tendencies.)



What was he thinking of? He wouldn't say, maintaining his usual stoic silence. Daydreaming about Japan, perhaps, or simply thinking about that book ("What makes owls so amazing?")

Tomorrow is Saturday, though, and both Eugene and I are released from office obligations for a few days.  I know my youngest is already making plans.

Moon Moon Moon

Anybody else stay up late/roll out of bed to see this morning's lunar eclipse? We had high clouds right up until a few minutes before totality, and then the breeze picked up, the sky cleared, and this...



Seen from my suburban driveway, and a handheld shot with the camera pressed against a fencepost for support and the digital zoom fully engaged. I watched for about 20 minutes, posted the pics, and then went back to bed. This morning I was half-convinced that it was a dream.

The post's title is taken from this song, which was a favorite of my daughter's when she was an infant, and was one of the 2am "please go back to sleep" songs that all parents must discover on their own. I caught myself humming to myself early this morning as I stood in the dark in pajamas and bathrobe, fumbling for the "low light" setting on the camera.



Now this same daughter is talking about being an astronomer. I approve! There's another eclipse in October. If we have clear weather, maybe I'll sing the harmony part next time.

Silent Running

Scribbled with a Pilot Knight fountain pen, kitted out with an Italic nib liberated from the squiddy Pilot Plumix. This took a grouchier turn than I intended, but it is true that I spend about 20-25 hours per week making my wife a track widow, the poor thing.

Our meets are pretty low tech, doing all our registration on paper, starting with black-powder blanks, and recording times with paper tape and numbered popsicle sticks. At the high school level, they are far fancier (and bigger-budget) with electronic shoe tags, video cameras to record finishes and the like. There's certainly a place for higher technology, and maybe some day we'll sign in children all marked with QR codes and hand scanners. They're all facilitating technologies, though -- there's a need they are filling. I'm still unclear on the need for the second screen strapped to my wrist, determining if I'm dancing or not, and offering to look up the song for me online.

We Need More Field Trips, a Prelude

I had the chance to get away from the office yesterday and help chaperone my son's high school biology class to Fitzgerald Marine Reserve, just a little south of San Francisco. Despite the mild threats of rain that never came through, we had a fine day out, sliding around on the rocks, checking out various sea critters exposed at the low tide, and likely sending a poor red octopus into therapy by the collective and excited shouting of about 50 boys all pointing and bellowing "OCTOPUS!"

I tried my hand at a little journaling to pass the time on the rides down and back and may transcribe the notes here soon. A bouncing bus full of chattering teenagers may not be the ideal environment to Think Deep Thoughts, but now I have a new appreciation for the kinds of life that hangs along our coast, and how they've adapted to the battering tides.

I also have a deeper appreciation for high school teachers and the battering they get each day at work. As wonderful as it was to get out from the desk and into the fresh air, there's something to be said for the quiet and relative calm of my day job. I imagine Mssrs. Adney and Polt are leaning back in their chairs now, noddling sagely. My salt-sprayed hat is off to you gentlemen. I have to admit that I got a little unhinged on the ride home, sitting on a too-small schoolbus seat, staring at the miles of brake lights between me and home.

I wouldn't have traded the day for anything, though. We need more field trips in our lives.

Bay Area Type-In: Photos and Type Samples

In roughly chronological order:





Sadie's information card which I typed up in advance. I don't know exactly what the etiquette is for identifying one's own machines. I thought I should be prepared, though, in case anyone asked what age my machine was (they didn't.) You can see Sadie in the foreground, the typecast page about to be used with my ramblings. Richard's Twolympia in the middle, and Carolee aka "Good Mail Day" pecking away on a Smith-Corona that she adopted from yours truly.

I brought a box of these little paper squares for samples and for sharing. I'm glad I did, since it let me compile something of a group of "trading cards" for all the machines I tried out. It also gave me a chance to forget to change the margin on more than one machine, as you'll see.

* * *







I am not afraid of the paint can when used to trick out a typewriter. I figure they shouldn't have to go through their retirement with the same office-drab paint they came into. But I don't have the chops (yet?) to completely remove all the panels and have the whole thing done. This machine... audacious. And perfect, for the size of the typeface. I love it.

* * *

This next one was clearly in the look-but-don't-touch category:



I wish the lighting and my own camera skills could have been more compatible. These simply do not do the machine or the rings justice.




Never used, these rings. Still in the original box.



How do you top a museum piece like that? MORE TYPING.

* * *



Hubris = typos. Remember that. It's actually not a German keyboard. Richard and the shop folks were taking and making guesses. Attention Bob Messenger: you are needed on the West Coast!





* * *

Lots of flitting around at this event: the Cole-Steel was on the same table as the Continental, near the camera here:



The Olympia was more toward the back. I know that I tend to comment on noise of these machines. There was a heady din through most of the day. A wonderful, metal-on-paper din.





Some of the Royal 10, which had been rebuilt at some point in its past. The glass panels had been removed and replaced with plastic (?) with the textured finish. I love the service label in the shift key. Here it is, getting a workout from Tony M.



And some attempts at unusual angles:





* * *

I tended to move at random from machine to machine. My attempt at typing "The quick brown fox" (positionally) on a Cyrillic (?) Good Companion was not filled with promise.





* * *

An Adler travel machine was set up in the back, and was one of my first brushes with the documentary crew. Props to them for managing two guys with cameras and a boom mic in a space made smaller by all the tables and typists.



The Hermes was by the front door, next to the sign-in Underwood standard. Adwoa would surely have passed it by without a second glance, but it stood out here, battered and dusty though it was.

* * *

I got a chance to take Richard's Twolympia for a spin. A risky move (for him) given my proclivities for these machines. He had some handy excuse about the carriage not stopping all the time, but I think this was just a self-preservation move on his part. NEXT TIME, POLT. NEXT TIME.



* * *



Olivetti vs. Olivetti vs. Facit! The winner? I may have to go with the script Olivetti, to be totally honest, though the Facit was something else.



* * *

Around the middle of the event, we heard some kind words from the owners of the shop, who were pleasantly pleased that they had to dig out their old tools once again, and were amused at the variety of machines that are now walking in the door. I think there were at least two customers not part of the type-in that came in to the shop. Not bad for a Friday afternoon with a sketchy-looking crowd hanging around the place.


Our hosts and some shots around the shop...


Around the room for introductions.








No table space? Play it where they lie.


Right in the front window, like a beacon of awesome. So. Shiny.


Oh Ames, how we miss you.


Old and new, working together.

* * *

And at Richard's comment ("Hey, did you see their workbench?") I naturally stuck my nose behind the magic screen...









* * *

Finally -- and sadly! -- it was time to get a little last typing in and head home. A final comparison type sample, and a few parting thoughts.





Get turned on to typing at California Typewriter!