I am just old enough to have used an electric type writer in high school. It was a rural areas and those typewriters were new-fangled tech gadgets. My cold-hearted mother wasn't one to reminisce or talk much about her own childhood, but my typing class brought back a flood of her own memories. My own memory of her thoughtfulness is etched in. She stopped working in the kitchen and sat down on the bench near her administrative desk. I thot she would reach for a pen, but did not. She never sat down but to work. This time, though, she placed her hands in her lap and stared out her double-paned bay window as if waiting for something.

"Of course we were using the manual typewriters when I was in high school." Then she paused and almost smiled. She rarely ever smiled. "We had to be so perfect and only those with very high accuracy rates would be led into administrative jobs." Then she said something that made me understand why that time in her life had such a huge impact. She said they had one line that they practiced typing over and over every day in class:

"Now is the time for good men to bear arms and come to the aid of their country."