

“A typewriter is a portal to worlds waiting to be discovered.” – Neil Gaiman
When I was eight I marched right into the kitchen and told my mom that I was going to college. She asked if I even knew what college was and I said, of course I do. It’s where you go after high school. And that was about as much as I knew about that. It wasn’t long after when I declared that I wanted to be a writer. I’m sure she wasn’t too surprised. I had been writing and illustrating my own books and telling bedtime stories to my siblings for years. Around 4th or 5th grade, I decided that I wasn’t going to be just any kind of writer, I would be a reporter and a reporter needs a typewriter.
At Christmas time I received a Petite 600, a portable little typewriter complete with a learner’s manual. I’m not sure how much of an odd ask it is to request a typewriter at Christmas time, but I’ll admit now that I was an odd kid. Opening that present was the beginning of a new era for me. And while I was not a good typist, typing was a heck of a lot faster than writing things out and that was good enough for me.
I remember writing stories and even creating my own family newspaper. I would play “newsroom” and “reporter” all the time. I would use carbon paper when I typed so I could create multiple copies of my newspaper to distribute. My sister and I even secured a Barbie 6 O’Clock News Play Set. The determination level was high.
I did go to college and became a reporter and as a blogger today, I’m still writing. Receiving a typewriter was one of my absolute favorite gifts. It was more than just getting what you want under the tree. The magic was in getting the typewriter you wanted because someone believed in your dreams just as much as you did. You can’t buy that kind of gift.
GIFTED is a three-part series about the best Christmas gifts I received in childhood. Take a walk with me down memory lane as I unwrap the magic of Christmases past.




