Modern Conveniences

Just the other day, I was listening to the host of a talk radio show going on about those little things he remembered while growing up.  Specifically those pencil boxes he had when he was a boy going to public school.  Obviously he was from my generation because most grammar school kids today would give you a deer-in-the-headlights look if you mention them; but I knew exactly what he was talking about.  Something that was in that box and that has changed very little over the years, was the personal pencil sharpener.  A single razor blade screwed (or glued) to a plastic housing that held the pencil. I remember with distinction they never worked very well. Oh sure they got something that resembled a point on them, but nothing close to those hand cranked babies on the door jam in the classroom; now THAT was a point.

  Something that stood out for me during my return to college was the absence of those pencil sharpeners in the class rooms.  I’d venture to guess less than a quarter of the classrooms had them. And let me tell you when you need a fine point, for like filling out a test scantron, they are sorely missed.  For the sake of readers who may happen upon my site and read this, and are puzzled by what a scantron might be, it’s a fill-in-the-bubble form (that’s old folk talk and most of my generation will nod their comprehension now).  Yes, they’re called scantrons today…so, that’s the embedded lesson that every good story must possess to be referred to as being good.  I’ve checked the meaningful information block; for good or ill.

   Since I am on the topic of pencil sharpeners I must admit my favorite all time sharpener is the desk model JUST LIKE THE DOOR JAM model, but comes with a suction cup apparatus that anchors it to any flat top you desire.  

Yeah, you just place the sharpener on a selected flat, non-porous  surface, then turn this steel arm at the bottom ninety degrees, and it bears down on a rubber grommet which creates a suction that keeps the sharpener locked down firm onto the flat surface.  And it stays too, I can whirl-a-way sharpening all the pencils in the world without it breaking free; and obtain that needle like acuity that only those cuties can produce. 

   On a side note, I happen to have sat down once with the business end of the pencil in my pocket and got one of those tips jammed into my thigh.  It even bled. But most important, I still have, for lack of a better term for it, a tattoo.  Yes, a Number 2 Fourth Grade tat.  I still enjoy the idea of admitting I have a tattoo on those invasive applications I face.  I fill in ‘yes I have a distinguishing mark on my body.’ When asked I tell them it’s a “Tat from 4^th Grade”

Makes me sound somehow…dangerous.