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The Typewriter

Looking for something to do over the weekend?  Here’s a re-post about what happened the last time I poked around at a yard sale.

Yard sales are common in my town but I seldom, if ever, take part.  For one thing, to have a crack at the really good stuff, you must arrive early and I’m not a morning person, especially on Saturdays.  Add to that my inability to shake off the old city-dweller mentality that no matter how tempting a curio might be, “there’s just no room for it.”  So, it was very out of character for me to check out the yard sale taking place in my neighborhood this past weekend.

As I approached the house, I saw the usual folding tables filled with knickknacks and gently used kitchenware.  There were books, of course, and a seemingly brand-new tennis racket.  I paused in front of the historic banker’s chair that was in need of a little TLC, and considered the antique wooden ironing board that yearned to be a piece of art displayed on a kitchen wall.

Call it serendipity, or fate, that I should spot a manual typewriter.  I couldn’t believe my good fortune that, as late as 11:00 in the morning, a vintage Royal had not yet been scooped up.  My first thought: it’s still available because it’s expensive.  My second thought: didn’t Kerouac use a Royal?  I knew about his famous Underwood – the typewriter he used to write On the Road – but I remembered reading somewhere that although he favored the Underwood, at one point, he also used a Royal.  Another literary giant had used a Royal, but I couldn’t place who it was.

On closer inspection, the putty colored typewriter was dirty, perhaps nicotine stained, and laden with the kind of dust that accumulates from years spent in an attic or basement.  The keys had long ago yellowed and the roller was splattered with white-out.  Its carrying case was even more soiled, and I couldn’t tell if it was leather or some sort of fabric that had petrified.  Still, this was a vintage Royal that, given its body’s metal construction and iconic red logo lettering, I guessed to be from the mid-1950’s.  I doubted it actually worked.  In fact, I didn’t even care.  I just knew I wanted it.  And for ten bucks, it was mine.

As soon as I got it home, I went online:

How to clean a vintage typewriter
When did Royal introduce the portable Quiet De Luxe model
Famous authors who used a Royal

Turns out a small paint brush, a soft cotton rag, a gentle hand, and the sparing use of water and rubbing alcohol have gotten me off to a good start.  I think my typewriter is a 1956 model.  And Hemingway was the other writer who used a Royal.  In fact, he had three of them.

Why have I been so fixated with this typewriter all week?  It’s the sheer romance of the whole thing.

Think about it…  In this digital age where first our PC’s, and now our laptops, become obsolete every couple of years, we don’t keep them long enough to create a history.  We don’t get attached to them.  We just discard them.  Years from now, will I even remember what version of Windows I used to write this blog post?  But I do remember the typewriter I learned on, and used to write my college papers and my first short stories – a blue Smith Corona.  It didn’t possess the mystique of an old Royal.  I don’t imagine anything could.

This Royal is going to sit on a shelf in the room where I write.  It will be more – much more – than a conversation piece.  It will be my reminder of what’s important.  My talisman.  The compass that guides me to whatever comes next.

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Dedicated to New York’s Bravest

When I heard chirping coming from the hot-wired fire/carbon monoxide alarm in the basement, I didn’t panic.  I figured it was an anomaly caused by the brutally cold temperature and fifty-mile-an-hour winds outside, and I reset the alarm.  However, when it happened again, I grabbed my coat, went outside, and called the fire department.  Within moments, four firefighters were on the scene.  Despite being masked up for Covid-19, I could tell these were fine looking men.  They bounded down to the basement, checked things out with a carbon monoxide meter, and assured me there was no leak.  Then they did a sweep of my whole house.  The conclusion: it was time to replace the basement alarm.  I thanked them profusely and they were on their way.

What can I say about firefighters that hasn’t already been said?  That the hunky firemen stereotype is founded in reality.  That they are superheroes who wear over fifty pounds of gear instead of tights and a cape.  That they risk their lives by running into burning buildings to save total strangers.

I do have something else that needs to be said.

Recently, the term “long haulers” has been given to those who contracted Covid-19 and, months later, suffer lingering health problems.  They are getting much media attention and my sympathy and good wishes go out to them.  But there’s another group of long haulers out there – the firefighters who struggle with lung and cardiovascular disease and battle cancer as a result of their exposure at Ground Zero in the weeks and months following September 11, 2001.  Why no mention of them?  In less than six months, our nation will mark the twentieth anniversary of that horrible day and, along with it, two decades of suffering.

Most New Yorkers could tell you that 343 firefighters perished on September 11th.  But they may not be aware that at least 241 firefighters have since died from illnesses linked to exposure at Ground Zero.  Sadly, dear friends of mine have lost two brothers this way.  One passed away four years ago, the other four weeks ago.  These men were New York’s Bravest, even in the long haul.  They will remain in the hearts of their family, their friends, and their community forever.  And the best way we can honor them is to never forget.

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About My Blog: Dolce Zitella

typewriterWelcome to my blog Dolce Zitella.  Doesn’t it sound like a decadent dessert?  It’s not.  For those of you whose roots do not trace back to that lovely boot-shaped country, let me translate.  Dolce Zitella means “sweet spinster.”  That’s right, I’m a woman of a certain age who’s never been married.  It’s okay with me, but the word spinster seems to press a lot of women’s buttons.  I mean, really, it’s only a word.  But if shrouding the word in a layer of mystery and romance makes some people feel better, so be it.

While I have something to say about being a single woman, that’s not all I have to say.  So it doesn’t really matter if you’re single or married, younger or older.  After all, my younger sisters – I used to be you.  Whether you’re adding highlights and lowlights or you’ve stopped dying your gray roots, whether your hot body is the reward of working out or the result of menopause induced hot flashes – we’re all part of the same sisterhood.

Like you, I’m just trying to balance career with the rest of my life, whether it’s spending time with family and friends; meeting a new man; being proactive about my health; trying out a new recipe; embarking on my latest home improvement project; taking a night class; engrossed in a book; binge watching a television series; or searching for that perfect shade of red nail polish…

Dolce Zitella will be updated on alternating Thursdays.  Visit and bring your friends.

red poppy

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