I learned to type on my father’s Czechoslovakian typewriter when I was a little boy. It used to the hunt-and-peck style, which is how I still type. I used to feel so important to change its ribbon, and load paper along with carbon paper. I still remember that it had no 0 (zero) and one had to use a capital O as a workaround. I still can hear the ring at the end of a line – ‘ting’. The margin when I write on paper has its origin from here.
It used to be a workhorse – typing up all the bills outstanding and quotations for his foundry.
The typewriter and the camera were among my father’s proud possessions that he brought back when he returned from Czechoslovakia where he trained to be a foundry engineer in the 1960s.
The typewriter, the camera, and the little book he wrote had a profound effect on me. They imbibed in me a love for writing, photography, and travel.
How these ordinary things can impact a man, eh?
Today is my father’s birthday and he would have been 88 today. He would have been amazed to see my laptop take a printout and even a dictation. He would have never fathomed that my phone would be able to take a picture of his typewriter and his camera and share it for the world to see.
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