August 26, 1964
Jocie Brooke here reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky. Do you see what’s in the picture? A typewriter! My very own typewriter. Mr. Atkinson, the lawyer in the office across the street from us, bought his secretary a new typewriter and let me buy her old one for twenty dollars.
I had to break my piggy bank, but who needs all those nickels and pennies anyway. That change along with the dollars I had stuffed down in my sock drawer for a rainy day or more importantly, a typewriter to fall down out of heaven, were just enough. Mr. Atkinson laughed when I spilled out five dollars in pennies, nickels and dimes on his desk, but he said money was money as he raked it off his desk into a box. He even gave me a couple of never used typewriter ribbons and let his secretary show me how to put them on. She barely got any black on her hands from the ribbon, but when I tried it, my fingers found plenty of ink. But I’m used to that. I get ink on me all the time helping Dad and Wes print and fold the newspapers for delivery. I can never keep from touching my face. The blacker my hands, the more my nose itches. Wes is always telling me I look like a spotted dog.
I don’t care about a little ink on my nose. The good thing is that now I can be a “real” writer and type up my stories instead of just scribbling in a notebook. Dad says writers write all different ways, but famous writers have typewriters. Dad says Ernie Pyle always had a typewriter with him when he was reporting from the war. He found this picture in an old newspaper to show me. 
Other writers too. Book writers. They have to have typewriters. Maybe I’ll write a book someday. Maybe a mystery like Agatha Christie. Or those Hardy Boy books. Maybe something mysterious will happen here in Hollyhill. I guess it doesn’t have to actually happen if I’m writing fiction. Say a stranger comes to town and he’s up to no good. A smart and very cute newspaper reporter starts digging into why the man’s here and saves the day.
Well, I haven’t figured all the plot points out. You can’t write a book in a day. But you can get started – when you have a typewriter. I’ll go to sleep smiling tonight!
Did you ever have a typewriter and dream of writing a book?
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