Hello, I am a typewriter and more than being a junk, I am a trophy
In Nancy's house, although her parents were poor, they worked to provide for their daughters' needs. Nancy is the second of four school-aged sisters, and like all girls, she has her cravings. But at home, Nancy's parents set a rule: whatever is bought for one must be bought for all four. If someone craves a doll, it cannot be an expensive doll because there isn't enough money to buy four dolls; that’s why it's better to crave ice cream or other more economical things.
For Nancy, it was normal to inherit from her older sister the clothes, shoes, toys, and even the books. As her older sister grew up or moved up a grade, they would give her everything that her sister had used and no longer needed. Then Nancy would pass those things to the next sister, and when they no longer fit her, that sister would pass them to the other.
The first time Nancy saw a machine just like me, one of her classmates from the semester was carrying it. She told her parents, but they argued the same old thing:
_There are more important things to buy, and if we buy you a typewriter, we must also buy your sisters what they need. Those words didn't stop Nancy from dreaming of having me, even though she knew it was difficult: her parents didn't have the resources.
But in the 5th semester, the Philosophy professor refused to accept handwritten assignments, so Nancy paid for the rental of typewriters or paid her classmates to type her work. One day, Nancy did her research, but could not find anyone to transcribe it, so pleading that her Philosophy professor would understand, she handed it in as is and the professor, upon seeing that it was handwritten, without reviewing it, gave it a big Zero and immediately returned it to her.
That day, when her parents returned from work, they found Nancy crying and that she hadn't eaten all day, and although they tried to calm her down by telling her it was just a note, she told them that studying without the necessary tools was like going to war without weapons: she couldn't survive or it would be very difficult to progress. Her parents looked at each other with pity and sadness: they had only been able to study in elementary school. Poverty had defeated them.
The next day, despite having swollen eyes, Nancy went to university very early and without her knowing, her parents took me to her house. They placed me on her bed to wait for her; they didn’t wrap me up or put on ribbons, they just left me inside my box. Since I had come out of the factory, I was certain that I was just an object, but that time when Nancy hugged me and started crying when she saw me, I realized that I was not only a dream come true, but that I would accompany Nancy for a long while.
Of course, later on, over time, more sophisticated objects came to do my job, but Nancy never threw me away or gave me away even though I was already old. She placed me among her books and even though people say I'm just junk, I stand there like a trophy. She says I remind her of how far she has come, but I believe I remind her of how little she had. Because although her professors at the university demanded typewritten or computer-typed assignments, Nancy allows her students to submit handwritten work because she knows that in wars, one defends oneself as best as one can.
The images are from my personal gallery and the text was translated with Deepl
Thank you for reading and commenting. Until a future reading, friends
Mi madre era similar a los padres de Nancy, si no habĂa dinero parra comprarle a las dos hermanas, pues no habĂa para ninguna, por otra parte, ver esta máquina elĂ©ctrica olivetti, me hizo recordar mis clases de mecanografĂa cuando estaba en secundaria y tambiĂ©n como en casa tuvimos primero una máquina sencilla de las que usaba carreta en dos tonos y para pasar a la siguiente lĂnea habĂa que darle a la palanca tras escuchar la campana del margen-
Luego mi madre comprĂł una elĂ©ctrica negra, era lo más sofisticado que habĂa para el momento. Coincido en que los profesores deben ser a veces más flexibles recordando que no todos los alumnos cuentan con los mismos recursos y que muchas veces están estudiando con todo su empeño, las ganas de salir adelante y pocos recursos, yo tuve que pagar más de una vez para que me trascribieran trabajos para la universidad.
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What a beautiful comment! I feel that many Venezuelans are children of hardworking Venezuelans who wanted the best for us. A generation that had more, because their parents worked for them, so that their children would not go through what they had lived and would have more opportunities. Thank you very much for your words and greetings.đź«‚
Está máquina de escribir es mucho más nueva de la que tenĂamos en casa, bueno mi mamá tenĂa una de las viejas que tenĂa carrete con la cinta roja y negra, ahĂ aprendimos a escribir mi hermana y yo pues mi mamá nos enseñó, ella es secretaria graduada (cuando graduaban en este oficio). Hicimos muchos trabajos del liceo en máquina de escribir, hasta que llegĂł la computadora.
My friends had those, mine was electric and had many new features, including the ability to "erase" words with a special tape. Thanks for commenting and greetings.
Hi, @nancybriti1
Wow, an Olivetti typewriter! I remember them well. The one you're showing was electronic... Quite modern for its time, trying not to be defeated by the emerging PC. In the end, it lost, but with great dignity. The banks continued to use them for cashier's checks. In my case, I switched from my trusty Brother typewriter to the PC XT 8086, which, by the way, I bought while in Cumaná. The brand was Packard Bell, with a green-tinted monitor.
Also, I think it's great that you treat your students with leniency if they don't have the means. The final metaphor was brilliant.
I really enjoyed your imaginative chronicle.
In Cumaná? It's good to know you had these places! My Olivetti was the sensation of my classes, because after having nothing, I had this machine that was superior to all. I remember my father said: if I'm going to make an investment, I'm going to do it right because that machine should be used by your other sisters. I forgot to mention this: that I was the first owner of that machine, my older sister was already married, but later my younger sisters used it. Thank you for your comment, my friend. Regards.
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I thoroughly enjoyed your creative storytelling. Thanks for sharing.
How good. Thank you for your comment.
Oh Nancy you nailed this perfectly and it was exactly the sort of thing that I was looking for...
Now did you name her? I think I might have called her Olive.
That typifies you and is another reason I am proud to have you as a friend 🤗🫂
Look, I just called it my Olivetti. As for accepting that my students do their work by hand, nowadays there are not only economic problems, but also electricity and internet problems, so I always tell them, “I don't want any excuses.” Do the research as best you can. Best hug, Ed.
I loved how you focused your story on your antique object that has a special history. Reading your story, I felt identified with you because I know what you're talking about. In our times, having a typewriter was a luxury, and whoever had one was fortunate. I also had one, my father bought me a portable one, since my father didn't want me to be running around because I didn't have one at hand. You made me go back to those years. Thank you for sharing your story with us, blessed greetings!
Certainly, I now see how fortunate we were to have parents who were responsible for our education, who, even though they had not studied, as in my case, fought for their children to have what they never had. Certainly, we were very fortunate. Hugs
Que bonita tu historia, muy emotiva. Gracias a Dios los padres de nancy comprendieron, de la forma más dura pero comprendieron. Gracias por tu artĂculo.
Mom still says: the day Nancy was able to flood the house with tears just to get them to buy her the typewriter. Hahaha. I am always grateful to have had such good parents. Best regards.
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You have a great knack for writing good stories.
Your stories resonate with me; I also learned a lot about passing them on from my elders in my family.
As a boy, I learned to type on one of those incredibly heavy types. That learning has helped me in these digital times because I can type on the computer keyboard with all my fingers without looking at the keys.
Thanks for sharing, my dear @nancybriti1 . A big hug from Maracay.
I remember I had a friend named Indira who had a typewriter with keys so hard that she once bent her finger while doing some work. It's not vanity, but we are a generation with incredible power to evolve. Thank you for your words, my friend. I send you a huge hug, as huge as this Caribbean Sea.
What a beautiful and heartfelt story. I love how your parents tried to be fair with their kids - my parents always tried to make things even too, bless them, something we still joke about today. It’s amazing how these simple objects can hold so much meaning and remind us of our resilience and dreams and your journey with this bit of simple tech is a perfect metaphor for carrying the lessons of the past. I still can't believe that prof failed you for handwriting though - that's outrageous. Not very sympathetic for people who can't afford tech!