I’m typing on a big clonky Dell laptop, but I feel like I’m cheating on my little Vaio laptop. The Vaio is on life support, working sporadically. It is working today, after refusing to power up for several days. I think it chose to cooperate because my daughter Faith (9) is writing a book, and it appreciates her slender fingers pecking away at the tiny keyboard, fitting it perfectly. The Vaio and Faithy are happy.
I know, I’m a little bonkers. How do you get attached to a computer, and think it has a personality? This bit of nutsiness I inherited from my dad. He’s a photojournalist. His camera has always been named Mencha la Andariega (Mencha the Wanderer). Actually, Mencha was like Lassie, in that there were several of her in succession, all entrusted with the same identity.
Then there was Matilde, my dad’s very old, very noble, Underwood typewriter. He wrote most of his early books and columns on her. My mom’s dad, who ran a gold mine in Costa Rica, gave it to him. My dad was attached to Matilde. Her twin is pictured above.
So you see, such strangeness does run in the family. And I like it! Do you have a little secret crazy streak?