Twittless in Verona

This is what I'm missing by not twitting:

The latest harangue by the extremist of the day.
The whereabouts of people who need to tell you where they are.
And what they are doing.
And why they are doing it.
Unless, of course, they're revolting against an authoritarian regime.
Which political candidate is right.
Or very right.
Or not right enough.
Which candidate is wrong, and why.
And what should be done about him or her.
The latest gossip about someone I care nothing about.
What movies, plays, art films, and/or not so arty films you saw.
What you ate and drank while watching.
Who you were with and when.
Which clubs you couldn't get into.
Which clubs you did get into even though you didn't want to because they weren't “cool” enough.
But you had to go somewhere just to twit about it.
What you had for breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks, drinks and other nourishment.
And if I’ve left something out, don't twit me about it.

I'm Twittless in Verona and plan to stay that way.

Off Night

Sometime after 10 p.m. each night my wife will ask me: “What are you going to write about tonight?”

Usually, I'll say I don't know, I'll think of something. Then I'll sit down at the PC, stare at the blank page and review the day, hoping some event will trigger a thought I can expand to a larger issue you might find interesting.

Sometimes not.

This is one of those “not” nights.

See you tomorrow.

Goldman's Suits

Poor Goldman, he just can't seem to dress properly these days. First it was his falling socks, then his mismatched ties and now his suits are in disarray.

So he fired his tailor. Now, he really needs someone who can spruce up his appearance. Get rid of all those conflicting vests and two-pants suits. Go for a cleaner, leaner look.

The headhunters are looking for a suitable replacement.

NOOK Night!

That's what Barnes & Noble calls its weekly in-store classes to teach you how to use your NOOK e-reader.

My wife and I and a friend attended class this evening. One of the things we learned was it would cost $15 to buy a printed manual on how to use the NOOK. Otherwise you have to page through the version embedded in your device or try to follow it on your PC. In either case you wouldn't be able to print it. Publisher's copyright protection, we were told.

A very nice young woman instructor, Emilia, answered all our questions and took us through the basics of how the NOOK works, its various settings, customizing it to your tastes and, of course, finding a book you might like and how to read it. She even gave us her card and invited us to call her if we had additional questions.

You might be surprised to learn that the NOOK prefers to “sleep” rather than be turned off completely at night. Saves the battery, Emilia said.

We also learned how to connect the NOOK to our PC and download pictures and music to the device.

We were there well over an hour and it was time well spent. And speaking of spending, I also bought the book, “Moneyball,” by Michael Lewis. You get a free read of about 50 pages before declaring your intention to buy. I think I made up my mind well before that.

There are also “free” books classified as Barnes & Noble Classics. Lots of famous titles are included.

So many books, so little time.

Typewriters, Cont.

I don't expect renewed interest in typewriters to have legs, so to speak, but I am grateful for the memories revived.

Typewriters, like the one that unrolls my blog above, engaged you totally as no word processor can. You were physically as well as mentally involved in the writing. You heard the clacking of the keys, the ping of the bell when you reached the end of a line, using you left hand to move the the carriage return to set up the next line. Sound and motion as part of the creative process.

Newsrooms were inherently noisy places, with banks of manual typewriters clacking away as deadlines neared. This was heaven to an aspiring journalist sweating in a non-air conditioned environment on Manhattan’s lower west side in the mid-50's.

I always had a typewriter no matter which newsroom I worked in. To me, that instrument symbolized an age when a writer communicated directly to his audience via words on paper.

We still use words, of course, but now it's all digital, including this blog. No more clacking, pinging or shoving the carriage return. Do I miss it? Not really. But it is fun to remember those times.

The internet floods us with so much information I'm concerned about its credibility and not only because it may originate on a hand-held device rather than a typewriter. It comes at us too often and too quickly with little time for substantiation. I take most of it with heavy doses of skepticism.

To be fair, though, I use some of these modern tools to muddle through. I just like remembering when the typewriter was a key player (pun intended).

Typewriters

I saw a story on CBS' “Sunday Morning” this week that typewriters may be making a comeback. At least among the nostalgic and the curious.

I gave away my last typewriter just recently to a neighbor who thought her son might find it helpful. It was an electric job that I bought when I went into business, thinking I'd need it to address envelopes. Then I discovered you could do that on the PC. So much for the typewriter.

My first typewriter was a Royal portable my parents bought for me when I entered high school. They knew I liked to write and wanted to be a reporter. It came with instructions to teach you touch-typing but I never could master that art. I got as far as positioning my hands on the keyboard and then just trusted to luck.

In college and in several professional newsrooms thereafter, I pounded many a different typewriter. The upright Underwood was fun and harked back to old-time newsrooms glamorized in movies like “The Front Page.” There were plenty of Royals as well but the workhorse of the newsroom was the Remington Rand.

Pounding was the operative word for newsroom typewriters in those day. Editors needed multiple copies of every story so carbon paper was inserted between three sheets of paper. You had to hit those keys hard to make the bottom copy legible. I don't know if you can even buy carbon paper today.

I never liked electric typewriters. I found the touch too light. Not being a touch-typist my fingers sometimes slipped between two letters. One of two annoying things would happen. The typewriter jammed or two letters hit the paper. In either case it required correcting.

Word-processing is another world. I still can't touch-type but the keyboard is easy on the fingers and the screen shows my work and I can go back and edit on the fly, which I always do.

As a former copy editor I have a thing about typos, misspelled words and other common errors. I have to fix them before I can continue to the next sentence. It slows me down some when I'm on a roll but I do it anyway.

What I remember most about writing on a typewriter is that when you made a mistake the only thing you could do was rip the paper out of the machine, throw it away and start all over again.

In that respect, at least, the modern world has made muddling a lot simpler.

-30-

The “Oy” Factor

Would you believe that this most expressive Yiddish word (or expression) is in the Webster's College Dictionary. Here's the definition:

“an exclamation expressing surprise, grief, pain, worry, etc.”

I love the “etc.” In other words, “Oy,” is a word for all seasons and reasons. I've been using it a lot lately whenever I get up or sit down. It bursts forth involuntarily to assist me getting up or sitting down, mostly from a couch.

And, of course, I used it tonight every time the Patriots scored against the Giants in the Super Bowl. Since the Giants eventually won, do you suppose Bill Belichick said “Oy” when Tom Brady's Hail Mary pass dropped to the ground in the end zone to end the game? I doubt it.

Giants fans, on the other hand, expressed the opposite of “Oy.”

Which is JOY! Well done Big Blue.