This is what I learned to type on. Or one like it, anyway.
My mother borrowed it from a friend when I was in high school, and I studied a typing textbook until I could bang away on the keys at eighty words per minute. When I took an actual typing class in eleventh grade and was assigned an electric typewriter, I scoffed at the archaic thing on my dining room table at home.
Typical teenager reaction when a new piece of technology is put in front of them.
Thirty years later, this beauty sits in a place of honor in my living room filled with other antiques. My buddy, Kim, gave it to me, and it belonged to her grandmother. (BTW, Kim is the inspiration behind the utterly hilarious Kimberly in the second installment of my Red River series.) This gorgeous piece and the others I’ve collected are a slice of history, and each has a story to tell.
If you could tell this particular antiques story, what would it be?
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Published on August 29, 2014 15:00