THE TYPEWRITER

During the Great Depression, a young man in his twenties enlisted in the war as a means of supporting his mother and sister. While in England, John fell in love with a beautiful, young woman who was, shortly after, killed in her house during an air raid.

The hard reality of how fast a life can change devestated him.

After the war, John returned to his home in Saskatoon and took a job as a janitor for the city newspaper. As he worked, he watched and learned the art of typesetting. As a typesetter, he practised writing and read as many books as he could get his hands on.

As a reporter, he learned how to give the facts.

As a columnist, he learned how to give an opinion.

As Editor-in-Chief, he learned how to run a business.

As a businessman, he learned how to move around alot; from Saskatoon to Ottawa, to Toronto.

At the age of forty-five, John became a proofreader for MacLean Hunter Magazine in Toronto. He devoted all of his spare time to writing. He preached freedom of speech and the importance of how the written word could affect the views of society.

At the age of sixty-five, John retired as Senior Proofreader for MacLean Hunter. He didn't have to train any eager young bucks to take over.

A computer replaced him.

When my Grandfather passed away eleven years ago, I received a large box full of his life's writing and a large, clunky, manual typewriter.
As my mentor and tutor, one of the last things he said to me was; "If you ever want to go places, learn as much as you can about computers. That's where the future is. The world will never stop changing but you can have an edge on it if you can see it coming and embrace it."

For eleven years, my sentimental stubborness has kept me using that large, clunky, manual typewritter. The keys stick. The ribbon won't hold tension. The return handle is rusting. I can no longer buy replacement parts; they don't make them anymore. I've packed it away in the closet, next to that large box of Grandpa's articles and short stories. His papers are yellow and faded.

A lifetime of experiences and changes...all in one box; soon to be put on disk and perhaps, someday, made into a book; maybe even available through the internet.

Yes, I can see the future coming. Can you?