When I picked one of these up today, I was struck with a wave of nostalgia that caught me off guard. We were at the post office getting the kids their new passports. I had to sign something and the post office employee handed me one of these thin black pens, and I hardly had to look at it to recognize it for what it was. My hand remembered it’s unique slim and spare exterior and gently tapered end. No one else in the room seemed particularly interested in my wave of nostalgia, but I’m blogging about it anyway.
I did what I normally do when something piques my interest and googled the pen to see if, as I thought, the pen used now is the same my dad was using while serving in the US Navy. What I found is a pen with a lore all its own. Look at the link above and you’ll read all about them and their interesting history.
Even though I was sitting in the Redmond Post Office signing papers, I was instantly transported back to 1978 and my dad’s office at Pensacola NAS. I could see his desk and feel the room around me. I could even smell it–a unique blend of government building and hospital clinic. I could sense his presence–always larger than life when in a uniform. If I closed my eyes, I could practically hear his voice as he talks to a corpsman. All from just holding a little piece of plastic. Memories are triggered in such interesting ways, aren’t they?