Sound from the Past

Today when I was in the dentist's chair having my teeth examined, I heard the distant clatter of a typwriter from the receptionist's desk. "That's a sound you don't hear much any more," I said to him.

The dentist, who looks to be fairly fresh out of dental school, told me in hushed and wondering tones that all the paperwork in the office was done either by hand or by typewriter. Now that he had bought the practice from the older partner, though, he had ordered some computers and software to handle scheduling and billing.

When we started going to this practice, both Tom and I noted the old-timey feel--the handwritten invoices, the yellowing Halloween decorations, the retro wallpaper. The sound of a typewriter--so different from the efficient clicking of a computer keyboard--fits right in. In my high school typing class, we used typewriters, correction tape and all, although surely we were one of the last sets of students to do so. I've been composing on a computer since sixth grade, (except for a brief attempt to try to make use of the electric Smith Corona typewriter I won in early high school). Ben may never see a typewriter except in an antique shop, and may hear the clakety-clack of keys only in old movies.