The Typewriter: How I Became Me

I initially wrote this on an old Blogspot blog I had back in 2010 around Father’s Day. I decided that I wanted to lead off my new blog… “My Life in Black & White” with it so my visitors and clients will know just how long I’ve been doing what I do and how I ended up doing what I do. So this was kind of a letter/blog to my father who never had a chance to read it. So here it goes…

Since as far back as I can remember saying it…which was probably in my teens, I referred to my father as “the sperm donor.” Why? Because he left me when I was in elementary school. He left us all.. me, my sister and my Mom. He left $10 on the kitchen table and walked out the door. My mom, rest her soul…took great care of us. She was the BEST!

When I was little, he was my daddy. He spoiled me rotten. So much so that my sister grew to hate me and used to beat me up at every given opportunity. Every Saturday he would take me “scavaging” as my nephew calls it. We’d go to the old Goodwill store on East 55th Street and rummage through all the other folks junk. He was a music buff and he’d go through all the records that came in looking for what he called “classics.” Then we’d walk around and look at books. He’d pick out a few for me and I’d pick a couple out myself.

On one occasion he came across an old typewriter (similar to the one in this post). He bought it for me. When we got home, he brought up this really old metal typing stand… you know, those old metal ones with the pull up flaps on the side and sat it in my room with a chair. He then laid down some typing paper (that paper thin rice kind) and some little paper thingies (correction paper), and a magazine. He said, “I want you to teach yourself how to type. If you do that and can do it well… you will always have a job typing something… for someone… and can make a living.”

All these years without him in my life, calling him “The Sperm Donor” when he left us. Not helping my mom. Not helping me and my sister. Never sending any money. Mom working three jobs. I always said, the best thing he ever did for us was to leave us! I always thought that he never gave me anything that would contribute to my life and me making anything of myself.

I am “my Mom” and “my Mom’s daughter” for sure! I finally realized that “The Sperm Donor” actually did give me something…that old typewriter. If he hadn’t, I wouldn’t be who I am in my business. My mom played a big role in encouraging me but… had it not been for that typewriter… I wouldn’t know how to type, or do websites or anything I do on a computer. That one old typewriter is what helped me to be “Me.”

My father, The Sperm Donor, died October 25, 2008 (4 months after my mother)…. so I can’t call him. “Happy Father’s Day, Craft” and thanks for the typewriter.

Love, Spider

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