Why Should I love this typewriter?  Because it’s mysterious.  Because I know it well.  Because it was just randomly sitting in a corner in the Palacio de la Artesania in Havana, Cuba.  Upon seeing it, my mind immediately jumped to Hemingway, but this wasn’t a Hemingway tour.  We were here for rum and cigars.  And besides, Hemingway’s typewriter must have been at his old house, Finca Vigía.  It didn’t matter.  I don’t even know what his typewriter looked like.

Why should I love this typewriter?

It didn’t matter because just seeing the old typewriter conjured up images of Hemingway.  A drink in one hand and a cigar in another.  But this typewriter also conjured up another image for me.  Me, as a child. I used to own a similar typewriter.  It was given as a gift to me by a friend of my parents.  He worked in a paper shop and would ensure that we were kept in plenty of “reject” or over-run paper.  Then one day, he surprised me with a typewriter similar to this and a little metal typing table.  I think they upgraded their office and he grabbed this before it went into the garbage.

I loved those old round keys, even if I had to press each one down really hard.  My fingers were black from putting the cloth ink ribbon into place. And from having to pry out a key that would get stuck.  Sadly, it was usually the letter e.

What do you see when you see this dusty, old typewriter?

 

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