|Where it happens! The keys of my keyboard.|
Long before personal computers, I sat at one time, in a room full of girls and one or two boys, in front of large humming machines, called electric typewriters. Mrs. Johnson would quote off things for us to type or we would sit with books propped up in front of us, copying meticulously, the words on the page. We were quiet and the only sound would be her voice or the rhythmic ticking of fingers on keys. I never did well in that class. While others were obeying the rules, I was off in my own world doing this.
and on and on forever,
letters and more letters,
26 in all and filling up paper,
until my fingers ache
and I've typed out documents
and written letters
and learned to spell
and written a Civil Service exam
and became a secretary
for Mr. Smith and Mr. Jones and Bill Otto.
in my opinion it's a hassle
and I'd sooner write and put my poems on paper.
Ha. The musings of a 14 year old girl. I still have that paper tucked in a folder with all my other old poems. I wrote hundreds in typing class. I never became a secretary. Heck, I only got 65% in typing anyhow. I am however, glad I learned. This blog would be a whole lot harder if I hadn't! We have certainly come far!