PAPA LEE’S Typewriter…1942
When I was nine years old my sister Peggy and I spent a month with our grandparents in Plainfield, New Jersey. We had traveled by train from Boston and it was a grand adventure for both of us.
My Grandfather (Papa) was a writer and I often sat with him in the evenings and on the weekends when he wrote in his little office on the 2nd floor. It was crowded with papers and books and all sorts of fascinating office paraphernalia and smelled of his pipe tobacco. I loved it.
It was especially exciting when Papa would allow me to peck away on his old typewriter. I had visions of writing “the” book of the century but in all actuality most of it came out like this:
CLICK ON THE LETTER AND YOU WILL BE ABLE TO READ WHAT I WROTE.