I wrote, ..."...I graduated from pencils and triple line paper, in the third grade, to an ink pen, in Waco, Texas. It was the 1950s. Once you were able to demonstrate that you had good cursive penmanship with a pencil, you were allowed to use what they called an ink pen. It was a trophy. A privilege. A badge. The 'ink pen' was a fountain pen, with a bladder inside-- and a little lever thing , you pulled, on the side, to depress the bladder and suck up ink. Somewhere during this passage, my mother casually remarked, offhand, "You know, Bill, - - a gentlemen always signs his name with a quality fountain pen..." - - the tone of the word 'gentleman', the implied simultaneous approval of such persons---and the unspoken disapproval of those were NOT of that ilk--that remark (caution) embedded itself into my subconscious like a worm. In my lifetime, I have probably spent $10,000 on fountain pens. Still very VERY rarely sign my name with anything but an expensive fountain pen. In law practice I signed and filed thousands of documents using fountain pens, perhaps a, idiosyncrasy nowadays, attributable to my mothers sentiment, and the way it feels to "create" words, slowly and carefully. It is a pleasure like no other.
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1 comment:
inspired to revisit the joys of writing with a fountain pen. Your description of the pleasure derived from slow and deliberate writing with a quality instrument is much appreciated.
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