HH's typewriter

Grandpa H's Olympia Deluxe typewriter

I have had an ongoing affair with typewriters.

My dad, HH, used to have a blue and white one (Smith Carona? [not sure!]) that was housed in a brown plastic suitcase. I loved to hear the clack-clickity-clack of the keys when he or Mamacat used it: it sounded so...official. I used it to type a paper once, in seventh grade BC [before computers].

Fast forward 15 years.

When Mamacat came to visit last month I begged her, "please, please, please bring Grandpas's old typewriter!" 

"We'll see!" was all she said.


When I picked her up at Logan, she was lugging this huge, green gray suitcase.

Hooooooray! The typewriter made it to Boston, baby!

She made my dream come true. She brought my grandfather's typewriter from the 60s. Yes, it is pink.

Mama cat told me the following story:

"Teresa! I brought the typewriter on the plane [it was so heavy she had to take it out of her luggage!] and the flight attendant said to me, 'what's that for?' I said, 'it's a typewriter, for my daughter.'"

"'What for,' said the attendant, 'her museum?'"

If she only knew!

My little typewriter short story, on the fridge

If she only knew!

So, I've been typing away, admiring my pink Olympia Deluxe typewriter, brainstorming how it is going to figure in the greater world of Chez Terez. 

Stay tuned. 

Come visit me!

 XOXOX TEREZ