Friday, April 3, 2015

With This Pen I Thee Said . . .

. . . a whole lot of things. To a whole lot of people. And it's not even mine. No, not mine. But I bought it. And I gave it to Erin during her senior year in college. Her major was piano performance. I thought she'd need a nice pen for the compositions I imagined she'd write some day. It turned out . . . Let me say . . . Truth is, she never used the pen.  The barrel had never held a single ink cartridge within its hollow cavity. The nib never slid across a sheet of paper of any kind, or left ink in its wake. A musical score? Heck. It's never written down a shopping list for the grocery store. Its protective leather sleeve still smells new. I found said gift in  an abandoned box of pens, pencils, markers and crayons. A pearl stashed among swine, if you will. The only fountain pen.

So I rescued it. I had to. It's been nothing but grateful since. The pretty red pen fits my hand like it was meant to be. Perfect heft. Perfect length. Ideal for someme with a penchant for the color red and fountain pens. The right color red. 

Such a gem demands only the bluest ink. I accommodate as if it's my one and only grandchild, and it thinks its mother is its sister. In its eyes, I am its mother. And that's just the way it will be. With this pen I thee said a lot of things in silence. Words on paper are the quietest, safest, most honest and personal. White margins ripped from the likes of Oxford American, Heirloom, and Mindful hold words I am bound to forget when thoughts and memories flood my mind in a rush too fast for remembrance. My words litter any space I'm in long enough to write. Perhaps I write too much?

I used to wonder if I read too much, if I'd filled my head space with unimportant trivia that would never win me a car or a seven day, six night cruise on a big Norwegian ship, if by some real miracle I won like a maniac on Jeopardy some day. It's possible. Anything is possible. There's so much stuff packed, tamped down and crammed deep within my brain that it takes a while to access it.  It's not there for nothing.

It takes longer to access some things, just as it does when a Mac slows down--in need of more memory. Hell, I can use some too. Why does a machine get what I so desperately obviously need when I'm grabbing at names and words for people and things I suddenly cannot force to the front of my brain and out of my mouth on demand? Never mind. With this pen I can still say. And once I have said said thoughts on paper, why it's banana-pudding-easy to re-call my words to the forefront. Aha! See how easy that was? See how it pays to have a red pen that speaks on paper exactly what you tell it? Oh, the letters I see in its future! What's red and silver, and rhymes with liver? The Red River! Its water is blue!

Go! Write a letter; 'tis the month for corresponding . . . unfettered. I did. Want to see? 

Okay, but only if you promise not to tell ykw. Quick! 

Sorry for the sorry angle. And the glare.

It looks better in person but one should never draw and watch an NBA game at the same time. But do use the rich, heavy packing paper that comes as filler in a mail order purchase. Crumple said paper for character after writing the letter. 

Write on.


  1. Oh, what a lovely post. I enjoyed reading the rythm of this story.

    1. Thank you, JarieLyn, and forgive me for leaving that extra N in your name. Besides, Texans always add extra syllables anyway. We give an A two syllables! You're sweet! :D

  2. Replies
    1. (Laughing.) If I wrote less I could draw, cook, clean and read more. You are a blessing. I am 4 days behind you on my challenge. I hope catching up counts. You're rolling right along. Thanks for inspiring me to carve out more time, to challenge and deliver.

  3. This envelope is smashing. It makes me wish my initials were ykw. I keep looking for some Limner mail to come to me. But perhaps you never received my response to your note. Enjoy our wonderful Houston spring and keep doing what you do.

    1. Goodness gracious! I'm stumped. I also have a mild case of CRS. Do you mind jogging my memory? Or better yet, send me a postcard. I go dark around the same time each year, so there's no telling why you have not heard from me. I keep all bounced mail; it gets archived too.

      I'm reveling in this wonderful spring. Irises bloomed today! I think you might live along a coast or in the Heights? No? Okay. Along a coast or in Houston? I see you on the tip of my vision. Not knowing for sure will keep me awake! LOL!

      Hope your season is as beautiful as mine. Happy mail to you. Thanks for your lovely, will-drive-me-nuts-until-I-recall-who-you-are comment.

  4. oh my dear limner the amnesia bug has hit you and also me someone wrote me last week and I simply cannot remember who that was Ugh ....happy spring to my dearest limner all is in bloom here including my dwarf maters such as hamns gelbe , micro toms , Cherokee black tiger ..and my regular size bushy chabrovsky which puts out a perfectly pink tomatoe that is super delicious and if you want some of those seeds let me know . take care my dear Limner ...

    1. I see that I'm in good company. LOL. Regular penners are automatically entered in my address book, and I have several writing pouches and letter stashes that are frequently misplaced. I need a better mail filing system. I'm too lazy to open sealed mail archives since most are tied with jute, stacked atop bookcases and shelves close to the ceiling in my studio. Okay, CRS has taken hold. :)

      Enjoy your week.