Whenever I take handwritten notes, instead of using my phone or iPad, I use a Sharpie, writing very large so that I can see it later. I always end up with black Sharpie ink all over my hands. I joke that I feel like a child with finger paint under my nails days after I participated in that activity in kindergarten class. But the other day, I realized the ink stains are more reminiscent of a time in our collective past, a 70’s of a different era than the one when I was beginning my education. I am very interested in the American Revolutionary War, as you may have noticed from stories such as “He’s No Chicken But He Crossed The River To Get To The Other Side” and “I Spy Setauket, Long Island.” An extensive search has been underway by my husband to find an ancestor of mine who fought for our nation’s freedom, on the AMERICAN side, I must clarify. More on that in future stories. I recently looked at an original ledger from the late 1700’s, the penmanship was unbelievably precise. It was so perfect it was difficult to read, even after taking a photo then enlarging it on an iPad. Thinking about what it would have entailed to make every letter the same size, meticulously straight. I was struck by the light bulb not yet invented then, that these exact characters were created with a quill pen and a bottle of ink. Immediately, I looked at my own right hand, bringing it close to my “good” eye (it’s all relative, people) and saw the Sharpie ink on my pointer finger and thumb. Two and a half centuries later, I bear the markings of my forefathers and foremothers via the action of putting words to paper.
The country and the world have come such a long way since our beginning, we are so fortunate to have all the advancements and technology that we do. There is, however, something surprisingly enjoyable about getting back to basics, performing an old trick an old way. Now when I see the dark stains on my digits, I instantly envision a dark room, candlelight, heavy rain hitting the windows (it has got to be raining), the fireplace snapping, the smell of burning wood permeating my clothes and my hair, the warmth starting at my toes. The reality is I am sitting at my dining room table on a sunny, hot June morning, the central air is on, Good Day Philadelphia plays in the background from the nearby living room, typing this on my iPad via a wireless keyboard and the largest font zoomed in to its maximum option. My Sharpies and notebook are here too, waiting for me to begin editing this story. I look forward to the fresh ink that will soon be not only filling the pages but also dotting my fingers. I used to work hard at scrubbing it off, anymore I leave it. It makes me feel like a writer. And somehow a Patriot.
#sisterrain #alittlesightalotofheart #legallyblindwriter #ushistory #sharpie #andthenihadaninkling
