Christmas 2011 - Mom's Manual Typewriter

Santa Dear, this is almost more of a complaint letter than a request.  Oh – it’s not a complaint against you – you’re wonderful!!  J  It’s my mother.  She has a manual typewriter, which she used as a reporter for that architectural trade paper.  She promised me that if I got her the ribbons for it over the Internet and put them on for her (because she couldn’t remember how to do it), that I could have it.

She brought it over on Thanksgiving.  Brother A. had to carry it in because it’s so heavy.  Since there was no place to put, he set it down on the floor.  He left after dinner and once I cleared the table, Brother B. and I had to lift it together to get it onto the dining room table.

The next day, I spent half the afternoon replacing the ribbon for her.  I learned to type on a manual years ago, so I knew what to do.  We still had two manuals in the house at the time.  One was Mom’s, the other was Dad’s.  She wouldn’t let us touch hers so we always played with Dad’s typewriter.  Goodness knows where it is.  As a result her typewriter is pretty much in mint condition.

But after fixing it up for her, she broke her promise and took it home again to use it.  That is Brother A. took it home for her….   The manual typewriter is part of my plan for the Dark Ages, Santa.  There’s going to come a time when none of us will be able to afford electricity.  The government will do it deliberately in order to control our lives and prevent us from communicating with one another.  When that day comes, the manual typewriter will come in very handy for writing my blog and writing messages to other Tea Party patriots.  Who knows?  I might even start a typing business.

Once I’ve typed my blog, I plan to distribute it using some other gifts that are up ahead on my list.  I’ve been thinking I should distribute my blogs right now, but chained down to my present job as I am (which I should be grateful to have for the time being), it’s just not possible.

The good thing about Mom having her typewriter is that she’s started writing letters to the editors again.  I finally got her to start reading Rush Limbaugh’s The Limbaugh Letter and she nearly had a fit when she discovered what our government is up to.  Mom’s feisty and can write a really fiery letter when she wants to.  If she were younger and better able to get around, she’d make a great Tea Partier.

So it’s okay that she keeps her own typewriter.  But I want it when she’s through with it, Santa!  Brother B. would keep it in good condition but never use it.  He’d sit there and moon over it sentimentally.  That’s all, though.  He’s never written a letter to the editor in his life.  Brother B. is Mr. Wimpy when it comes to politics.  Moan, groan and stay home.  That’s him.

Brother A. would immediately sell the typewriter for its antique value.  With him, it’s all about the money, not the use, and certainly not sentiment.  Politically, he’s less wimpy than Brother B. but he never lets patriotism stand in the way of making a quick buck.

I’m the only one who would put that typewriter to proper use.  I’m the only one who knows how to type, for crying out loud.  My brothers didn’t stand up to the communist history teacher in high school; I did.  Brother A. never got to that class; Brother B. sold out.  Therefore, it’s only right that I get that typewriter, Santa.  Let Mom use it for now; that’s fine.  The typewriter is hers, after all.

But don’t let her forget who should get it in the end, Santa!