My fourth grade year in St. Gertrude’s Catholic School, Chicago, was memorable to say the least. It was the year I won a city wide penmanship contest.
I removed the silver cap from my speckled, cobalt blue fountain pen and wrote the required two page story in my very best handwriting. I filled the pages with word swirls of perfect portion. The lines of each letter flawless, clear and fluid. I began each word with the pen poised on the page and didn’t lift the nib until the word was finished. The blue ink seamles, not a blot or break throughout the word. I loved writing with my silver capped, speckled, cobalt fountain pen. It felt so comfortable, an extension of my hand. The words seemed to write themselves.
People who have been subjected to my handwriting may be shocked to learn this little titbit. My penmanship did not live up to this early perfection for very long. You see before I received my award for said contest I had a little accident.
The weather had turned wintery as it tends to do in Chicago. St. Gertrude’s winter policy required students to change their outdoor shoes/boots in the lower entrance area before proceeding up the steps to the classrooms. This was to avoid tracking wet and snow on the very highly polished floors. Have you ever noticed the love Nuns have for highly polished floors? Anyway, I changed my shoes and headed up the first flight of steps. Someone who hadn’t changed their shoes left a thin skin of ice on the top step for me to slip on. And slip on it I did, fallling down the full flight of steps. My right hand took the brunt of the fall. It hit every single step on the way down in an effort to protect my face.
Half an hour later my mother and I were sitting in the doctor's examination room. X-rays were taken and I was diagnosed with a ‘Green Stick Fracture.’ I was in a cast for the next 6 weeks. The glory days of perfect penmanship were over!
What brought this long ago story of woe to mind. Husband, who was on a train trip returned home last night with a present. A beautiful ruby red fountain pen. I uncapped the pen and put the nib to paper. It felt perfect in my hand. The ink glided across the page with an ease that reminded me of my silver capped, speckled cobalt fountain pen. Sadly my penmanship never again reached the dizzy heights of perfection. The‘Green Stick Fracture’ did not heal properly.
We went back to the doctor 6 weeks later to have the cast removed. On examination the doctor informed my mother the wrist had not fused properly. He wanted to break it again and reset it. My mother looked at him as if he had two heads, she grabbed our coats, hustled me out of his office, loudly pronouncing him to be a quack! A reaction that was perfectly justifiable.
That is another story.......this story is about the pen.
I will leave it at that. J
That is another story.......this story is about the pen.
I will leave it at that. J
