Antiquity

I had not used a typewriter, for let's say, 28 years; until Tuesday. In fact, I didn't know they were still around, much less still used; until Tuesday.

Mom and I were directed to room 129 at the county courthouse -- the probate will office, or some such thing. Our mission, to get her husband's will put on record for posterity. "We have records from 1840," said the cheerful clerk.

To be honest, I was just Mom's ride and wheelchair pusher for this assignment. However, counters being created for the standing population, not the sitting population, I also had to be her means of communication.

If you've been around either of us, you know we are communication challenged, having one good ear between the two of us. (Love those genetics!) I cajoled the nice lady behind the counter into speaking very slowly.

I thought she was kidding. "You will need to TYPE the information in the blanks on this form." I laughed. "Can you say that again please." I had actually heard her correctly. Therefore, I chided, as I inquired where in the world was I going to find a typewriter in this day and age to fill in the blanks. And, besides that, who in the world requires ANYTHING to be completed by typewriter in this day and age? The government. Oh, the government. Of Indiana. I should have known.

"You can find a typewriter in the law library, room 207. Go up the elevator to the second floor, down the corridor, around the stairs... " I packed up Mom and the 'form' that had been photo copied a bazillion times so that is was barely legible and somewhat wavy at points which contained the blanks that NEEDED TO BE FILLED IN BY A TYPEWRITER.

We found the law library. Negotiated the wheel chair in and then Mom used her cane to get through stacks to the far corner where an ancient, lonely electric typewriter stood. THIS was my tool. Would I remember the college skills I had gained typing every last college paper (and there were MANY) on an electric typewriter? Do they still make ribbon for these things? The lady assured me that I could correct mistakes. I could not.

I began. The paper loaded onto the black roller, but it did not reach as far as the blanks, so in and out the paper came. Numerous times, since the blanks were all over the place. Then there was the matter of actually trying to type the letters ON the lines rather than just in the vicinity of them. I decided vicinity was good enough. Meanwhile, I could not contain the incredulous nature of this assignment. My frustration mounted and more that once I proclaimed under my breath "this is the most stupid thing I have been required to do in a long, long time. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid." I guess that helped. In the very least, it gives Mom a story to tell

We reversed our course with the now required typed form in hand. Back to room 129 and the cheerful lady at the high counter. "I know you are not the one to make decisions like this, but is anyone aware that it is 2011 and no one types anything anymore? In fact, faxes are considered legal signatures? Yet, we had to go over the river and through the woods to TYPE this form? This is the stupidist thing I have been asked to do in a long time." Sweet lady. Nice lady. She maintained her composure, mostly because I was not lashing out at her.

She explained that this was actually a 'service' to us, keeping us from having to see an attorney to have the will deposited for safe keeping. I'm sure she has a point, but I was, after all, only the driver and not sure why we were making this visit in the first place; nor why said form was required.

She said that she was going to retire soon. And, with a wink and a nod, once she retired, she knew it wouldn't be long until they actually put all this information on MICROFISCHE! Oh good.