Inking it old school
A few weeks ago, I was chatting with Dad on the phone. Our conversation wandered into genealogy territory (as our conversations often do), which led me to my sharing an anecdote about how Mom used to entertain me by making ink blots with a fountain pen she had when I was little.
“You know, you ought to start writing stuff like that down,” he said. He reminded me of a book he had put together a number of years ago, in which he recorded the sorts of family stories that tend to come up whenever family get together, and challenged me to do something similar.
My favorite fountain pen having a lie down on a bed of my everyday handwriting.
So I got to thinking about the smallish stack of blank books I've purchased over the years (but never used) and how I've been looking for excuses to practice my handwriting and exercise my fountain pens. I set one of the journals and a pen next to my chair in the living room, and when I happen to think of something that happened to me over the years, I jot it down in the journal. A description of the first house I remember, and the neighbors who lived near it. My first bicycles. The neighbor kids. My first job out of college. Life in a small town in Kentucky.
It's not always pretty,what with strike-throughs and handwriting mistakes, and it's generally not as well composed as what I might write and repeatedly edit on the computer. But it's kind of relaxing, and whether anyone will ever read any of it or not, there's now at least 37 pages of the stuff.
“You know, you ought to start writing stuff like that down,” he said. He reminded me of a book he had put together a number of years ago, in which he recorded the sorts of family stories that tend to come up whenever family get together, and challenged me to do something similar.
My favorite fountain pen having a lie down on a bed of my everyday handwriting.
So I got to thinking about the smallish stack of blank books I've purchased over the years (but never used) and how I've been looking for excuses to practice my handwriting and exercise my fountain pens. I set one of the journals and a pen next to my chair in the living room, and when I happen to think of something that happened to me over the years, I jot it down in the journal. A description of the first house I remember, and the neighbors who lived near it. My first bicycles. The neighbor kids. My first job out of college. Life in a small town in Kentucky.
It's not always pretty,
You and Young Sir still ought to give it a try. I bet your journals would be priceless, complete with clippings, bits of string, etc.
WV: "kingsopa". Seriously?
Seems kinda of silly to be writing it now, present tense, but future genealogists will blow kisses to you ...wherever you may be ;-)
For me, it's mostly an excuse to keep my pens and my cursive from getting too rusty.