I never know what words will flow from the tip of this pen. It’s a very mysterious gadget to hold. Mine of choice is a ballpoint pen, sometimes a cheap Bic, sometimes an upscale Parker T-Ball Jotter. When I was a young lad I loved taking my mother’s fountain pen and use it to scribble away. It held a reservoir of words that flowed for quite a long while. That style was an improvement from the dip pen which held only a few words before it needed another dip into an ink well or bottle. Neither the fountain pen nor the dip pen prove friendly to this lefty because of the way I hold the pen and sweep from left to right. The left hand is always in contact with the fresh ink on the page and smears it.
In an earlier age, let’s say the time of writing the Declaration of Independence, writers used something else to pen their words - goose quills. Thomas Jefferson wrote the many-word Declaration with one. A handy device called a pen knife that some of us carry in our pockets today can convert a feather to a pen. It’s just a small folding knife. Its original purpose was for trimming and sharpening quill pens.
Sometimes a pencil in hand becomes as mysterious for its output as an ink pen. I’ve become something of a snob since I prefer Blackwing Pearls which are advertised as writing with “Half the pressure, twice the speed.” Since the Zanbroz store in downtown Fargo closed, I need to find a new supplier. After all, John Steinbeck used them (I can dream, can’t I) and said “they really glide over the paper.” He was said to have looked at his sharpened Blackwing and saw a lightning rod.
As far as putting these writing instruments to work, I only had to look around. My copy of A Sand County Almanac by Aldo Leopold lies open on my desk. The book celebrated its 75th birthday this year, and it contains a wealth of writing. One passage leaps off the page. He reminisces that in his youth with “trigger-itch” they never passed up a chance to kill wolves. One day a party of them started firing at a she-wolf until it went down with its wounded pup following behind. He wrote, “We reached the old wolf in time to watch a fierce green fire dying in her eyes.” The scene profoundly affected him and he noted that as time passed the thinning of the wolf opened the way for the deer to increase in numbers and negatively influence the environment.
Another story of the wolf comes to mind when the anthropologist Loren Eiseley shared this. He spoke of the time one winter evening while sorting through a box of fossilized bones he had collected. His dog named Wolf slept on the floor beside him. When Eiseley dropped a large bone between them, the dog woke and took it in his mouth. The specimen, probably 10,000 years old and rock-hard, became the dog’s possession as if to say only fools gave up bones. Any attempt to take it resulted in the animal’s baring his teeth and snarling viciously at his master. As Eiseley noted, “I was the most loved object in his universe, but the past was fully alive in him. I knew he was not bluffing. If I made another step he would strike.”
To defuse the situation, Eiseley got up and walked to the door speaking calmly to his dog, “Wolf, a walk in the snow.” All of a sudden, the promise of some playfulness outdoors let the dog forget the bone and he willingly came on the run. A blizzard wind was blowing, and after a frolic, the dog wanted to return indoors where he promptly fell asleep on the rug. Uncontested now, the bone was picked up and placed high on a shelf.
As youngsters we listened to a steady influx of stories about wolves: Little Red Riding Hood, The Three Little Pigs, The Boy Who Cried Wolf, and many others such as Jack London’s books The Call of the Wild and White Fang. According to Roman mythology, the city of Rome was founded by twin brothers Romulus and Remus, who were raised by a she-wolf after being abandoned as infants.
Wolf stories have flowed easily and often from the tip of a writer’s pen. Next time you pick one up, stop and wonder how to unlock it. Maybe it doesn’t need to be unlocked. Try pressing it to paper and watch the words tumble out.
No comments:
Post a Comment