This entry was originally a typecast, but my scanner lobotomized itself just as I was scanning the typed page, and now no amount of coaxing, threats of violence, or percussive maintenance can get it to fire up again.
Anyway, here’s a conventional update instead.
Yesterday, Quinn and I drove over to downeast Maine, to visit the sister of my good friend Deale, who passed away two years ago at the age of seventy-three. He left behind a house crammed to the rafters with mountains of stuff, all kinds of things collected in the course of a long and productive life. He was a teacher, a state legislator, a history buff, a globetrotter and a volunteer for many causes. We went to Berlin and Salzburg together in the early 1990s, shortly after the Iron Curtain fell, and he hosted me in Maine many times. Deale owned so much stuff that it took his sister more than a year to clean out the house and get it ready to sell.
The typecast that sits on my desk next to the lobotomized scanner was typed up on this:
It’s a Royal DeLuxe Portable from 1935. Deale’s sister gave it to me as a keepsake. It spent the last few decades collecting dust in my friend’s attic, and she wanted me to take it home and put it to good use. It’s in fantastic shape—no rust at all, and all the bits and pieces work as designed. I trashed the old ribbon, rewound some fresh ribbon onto the old Royal spools, and went right to work with it. Deale’s sister said that he’d be very pleased to know that the old Royal is being put to use again, and I won’t be able to help thinking of him every time I bang away at the keys.
On our way to my friend’s old place, we stopped in Portland for lunch with my VP pal Chang:
I have a few Brothers From Another Mother, and Chang is one of them. We had a nice lunch near the waterfront, and then Quinn wanted to finally go see the ocean, so we walked down to the beach and let him run around for a bit. There’s a narrow-gauge steam train running right by the beach, and it happened to pass by just as Quinn was collecting shells on the beach, so he was in Little Boy Heaven.
All in all, I drove close to eleven hours for four hours of visiting with friends, but it was well worth it. In closing, I’ll leave you with a few shots of a happy little boy on a sunny day in Portland, Maine…