HERE I GO AGAIN. Dear Loyal Readers and New Subscribers, Forgive me. I’ll soon be off on another trip, and the exigencies of the blog can not be optimally-managed long distance. Letter From Elba will be back in your email box on Sunday, March 15. I will have much on which to report.
And if you’re lonesome- or just want to get better acquainted- there are always the archived posts. Just help yourself to an old- or shall I say “classic?”- post from the column on your right.
Thank you for your indulgence. Now back to the business at hand…
Just the other day my brother Kenny was saying he had one regret.
This was huge news to me. I seriously have never heard him regret anything before. He’s a happy-go-lucky guy.
“I wish that I had learned to be a better typist when I was in school. You know. Learned how to keyboard,” he sighed.
“Did you take typing?”
“Yeah, out in California when Mom and Dad moved there.”
The memory started to make him laugh.
“I was terrible. When I took those typing tests, I would look the teacher straight in the eye and pretend that I was really going for it. But what came out on the paper was just a bunch of meaningless letters. Garbage. Trust me. Benedict Cumberbatch couldn’t have broken the code. ”
Now I was laughing- and remembering, too.
Manual typewriters. The ding of the bell at the end of the row. Typing tests. Carbon paper. Corrasable Bond paper.
Wite-out.
It all started in summer school. New Trier High School, Winnetka, Illinois.
Before New Trier officially began in September, everyone I knew in the Avoca School eighth grade had decided to take typing. So I did, too.
It was a way to learn the layout of the school and to meet new kids from all the different feeder junior highs. Socially, a summer school typing class was de rigeur.
Uh, learning how to type was actually not all that important to me. I wasn’t going to be a secretary, after all. Why did I need to learn how to type, for pete’s sakes? When would I ever need to use it?
Ahem.
Je Ne Regrette Rien Sidebar: If I could have talked to that thirteen year old girl that was me, I would have given her two pieces of advice. One would have been to pay more attention to the typing teacher. The other…well, let’s just say it involved my very-involved love life. It’s really a moot point, though. I never would have listened to me, anyway.
But here’s that typing teacher to whom I should have lent a more attentive ear.
Mrs. Bishop. Humorless and completely uninspiring. Trying to pound the touch typing system into goofy, attention-challenged, whirling adolescent brains. What a thankless tqsk. I mean task.
I remember some of the boys in my class. I do not remember anything about typing. (But hey, between typing and Summer Chorus, I had a great pre-New Trier time.)
Tabbing back to Kenny…
“Yeah, I can only type with two fingers. And kids today learn to keyboard in kindergarten.” He sounded almost rueful.
“It’s never too late. You could take a keyboarding class now if you really wanted to,” I encouraged.
“No, I’m fine. I’ll just do what I do. It’s no big deal. I’m pretty good with my method.”
Okay, I’ll buy that. But Kenny, you’re a competitor. You always like a challenge, right?
I hereby declare a speed typing championship. The sentence:
THE QUICK BROWN FOX JUMPS OVER THE LAZY DOG.
And here’s your competition.
(I think you’ve really got your work cut out for you, bro.)
Ready, set, type!
And no peeling. I mean peeking.
Mrs. Bishop will be watching you.
So Ellen, some people are Type A, and others are Type B. What Type is your brother?
My mother instilled in me the importance of learning how to type, correctly envisioning a future in which people, both men and women, would be responsible for their own typing. Of course, she did not anticipate auto-correct, and folks banging out text messages with their thumbs.
For a different kind of typing demonstration, click here.
Thanks, George. You were Johnny-on-the-spot today. Kenny? He’s Type O. (Like Nellie Winemeyer. See “Some Like It Hot.”) As for your link… he’s fast. (But it’s only a Monday.)
Ellen — Congratulations on locating the most obscure video I can ever imagine — the National Typing Test. I have no idea how you do it.
I type about 75 words a minute, the result of years of practice on a manual typewriter because of years of manual typing for high school and college journalism and then legal work until the personal computer became available. But I’ve never had a computer that could match my speed even at 75 Wpm. The words crawl behind me and eventually get mixed together so I end up slowing down for the computer to catch up.
The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy moon. The classic phrase used in learning how to type. My old manual Underwood would clang back to life to hear those words!!
I’m impressed, Jack. Very. And could you take some dictation later? I’ve got to finish my book and you’re just the guy who can help me.
Provide the keyboard and the desk space and I’m available.
If I were a loyal dog and faithful companion, Kemo Sabe, I’d say “Roffe. Roffe.”
Thanks, Tonto. I’ll move my silver bullets and mask, feed Silver and get you a desk. Don’t forget to bring Scout and a steno pad. Oh and listen to this. http://youtu.be/Td4RHvyAFsM
You wrote his papers. I typed them. His only regret?!
And I’m expecting you to type his comment this morning. Yep. His only regret.
$& diffidence gun. Gin. Jon jjjjuuuuuuu zzzthsncmckckcmxjjm mm,!
I tried:-(
You should have had ML type this. But thanks, bro.
Kenny,
EEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHH!
(Inside Ojibwa joke, Ellen)
I’ll pass it on, Bermie. I mean Bernie. Thafks.
This is such a cute video, folks. It just came in via my reader. Darlene. Watch it. It’s adorable. http://youtu.be/vfxRfkZdiAQ
I wonder if dictation/voice recognition class is now available Ellen.
Huh? What? I didn’t quite catch that. Can you speak more clearly?
Exaggerated enunciation is the new hunt and peck.
You’re si right, Gaty.
And now we all type with two fingers on a touchscreen.
So true, Big K. And do you think J.R. ever bothered to learn how to type? Hell no!
Nice!
Who typed this? It’s legible. And how long did it take you?
I believe typing was one of the most lucrative courses taken in high school. At Tulane, I made some serious cash by typing friends’ term papers at a per page rate, which allowed some extra dough to buy chicory coffee and beignets at Cafe du Monde (for less than a dollar), oysters on the half shell (on campus 10 cents per oyster on Fridays) and Hurricanes at Pat O’Briens. I know Mardi Gras ended a week ago, but my greatest memory then was “Throw me Something Mister,” the delightful mantra heard during carnival season–which has nothing to do with typing. -30-
That’s ok, Rick. Any time you can work Tulane, N’awlins and Hurricanes from Pat O’Brien’s in, go right ahead. I’ll add my shout out to Nick’s- where you sat on packing crates and they floated drink layers, the Camellia Grill, Ruby Reds and Moscas.
Oy, my Olivetti needs a tune up. And Nick’s, had many Tequilla sunsets there. Sadly both are closed but not forgotten.
http://m.yelp.com/biz_photos/nicks-bar-new-orleans?select=clbwXRb6cM-vEJO_HIJ-Jg
Very nice photo of Nick’s! Throw that man some beads! Thanks, Mitch. Calling all Tulane alums!
I took typing at New Trier. Hated it but it has done me a world of good since then. Now I am glad I took it and yes I took it in summer school
Thanks for chiming in here, Pamela. I’m trying to find one person who actually liked typing class. So far it’s unanimously detested.