Wednesday, April 2, 2008

The Sound of Typing

I thought of something I love the other night. I love the sound of typing. Not my own hands busily typing, but typing close by is so pleasant. The other night I was reading when Mike began typing a reply to an email. I suddenly felt so peaceful – like all was well with the world. Occasionally Mike will have extra work he needs to do late at night from home. I always insist he work on it in our room, assuring him I will sleep through it fine, and I will sleep through it fine because it is so nice with the sound of his fingers moving about the keyboard late but nearby.

I know why I love this sound. I can reasonably assume that the clicking sound itself is not that melodious and could easily be annoying, however, my dad is an author. All my growing up days, and still to this day, if he isn’t grading papers from his college students, he is writing. When I was young it was always on a traditional typewriter. I remember him sitting there, head back, eyes closed – looking pretty nearly asleep, but typing away like it was as natural as breathing.

Most of his typing – whether by type-writer, or later a computer keyboard – was done in his upstairs “office” just over our main family room. I remember many times sitting in that office on his small red couch while he typed away. When I was little he would sometimes get out this old manila colored writing board, a piece of his typing paper and a red or black felt tip pen for me to draw with. I also remember lying on that couch taking naps even well into my college years. I’m sure all of my siblings have the same memory. My dad would always come once he thought you were sleeping and put a blanket on you – more as tradition than due to any actual coldness (he had a little plug-in heater up there and it was always very toasty). There was a little deck off of his office and in the summer, the sliding glass door was always open so the chimes hanging in his office would blow about in the seemingly constant breeze we had from living so near the mouth of Ogden Canyon (perhaps that is also why I love the sound of wind chimes). He also constantly had classical music playing from the radio on his desk. I know we often went up there to discuss various woes or even ask for blessings, but I don’t remember the conversations as well as I remember listening to a little music, some wind chimes, always the sound of my dad typing, and the feeling that all would be well; we were in good hands.

7 comments:

Gracie J said...

I love this. I don't personally care for the sound of typing, but the way you described it, I can understand why you would love it. That little office is one of my favorite places in the entire world...even during blazing hot summers. So many fond memories. I love Gordo!

Perla said...

ah, yes. i could have written the exact same post (except not the part about mike writing in my room at night). that reminds me, remember the time we were at the video store and i came up behind jason and put my arms around his waist while he was looking at movies, but instead it wasn't jason? it was mike. that was a very awkward moment. but anyway, loved this post and i love my same memories that we share of the sounds of typing. i miss the sound of the ding at the end of the sentence and then the return of the cartridge as the paper clicked up a line and rolled to the left, but i don't miss the fact that our fingers would have to be as strong as dads to be able to type a sentence on one of those things, which is nearly impossible.

jami said...

isn't it amazing what brings back memories? and how it's not necessarily the big things, but the background things that we associate our memories with, like the sound of typing and the windchimes. :) awesome post. thanks!

Mugsy said...

O my goodness what nastalgia....It just put me right back in that wonderful place. And what a perfect picture of Dad I may have to put that on my little journal blog as well for me to have. Nice way of typing Nanc, you do have dad's gift. I love you, Meg

Lover of Sweets said...

Very endearing indeed. I felt like I was there in his office. You're a fine little author yourself Nancy Pants. I love your dad for so many reasons. He's shown me more affection than my own father all these years I've known him. Glad you wrote about him and sweet nostalgic sounds.

Gracie J said...

By the way, I think Shan is lying. I think she does listen to Mike type in her room...and she LIKES it!

marzee said...

mmmmmm. All is well with the world - that's how that post made me feel. So nice. Thanks.

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