Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: MONDAY, July 3, 1995 TAG: 9507030012
SECTION: EDITORIAL PAGE: A11 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: MONTY S. LEITCH
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
He had a good time, too. He was dazzled by my office supplies.
``Can I work on that computer?'' he asked me, soon after he'd arrived. ``You know, that computer that you let me work on last night?''
I've learned that ``last night,'' in 4-year-old, refers to any time before the actual present: last night, yesterday, a week ago, 1967.
And the ``computer'' of which he spoke is my old IBM Selectric typewriter. He thinks it's splendid.
``Sure, sure,'' I said, echoing another 4-year-old idiom.
In my office, he pulled my desk chair up to the old wooden typing table on which the Selectric sits, adjusted the chair expertly, rolled in a clean sheet of paper, turned on the typewriter, placed his fingers just so, and made those old keys rattle.
``ibylou y uijuirtuy uo6u67uuyhyjyu x6y''
That's a direct quote. I don't know enough 4-year-olds to translate, but he assured me it was a letter for Cynthia. (Not her real name, by the way. He's deeply enamored of an ``older woman'' - she's 10 - whose true identity will remain safe with me.)
I showed him the QWERTY position, and he gave that a try, too. He was particularly impressed with the RETURN and CAPS LOCK keys. Remember RETURN?
``G TRY Y & UNII &
FHYT$TRU$%TTrututiuy5u45y''
Another quote.
But better than the RETURN key, the CAPS LOCK key or the bell sounding for margin's end - the things that really dazzled him - were my carbon sets.
Do you remember carbon sets? Back before Xerox machines, when copies of letters were required, carbon paper provided a typist's only recourse. Carbon sets - in which a thin sheet of carbon paper was cleanly attached to a sheet of onion skin - seemed a major advance over the first sticky, slick black paper. No more carboned fingertips. No more smudged originals.
I have a box of 500 carbon sets (less a few) from those days. They should hold out for my 4-year-old for as long as his fascination with them lasts.
``Let me show you something else,'' I said, when his interest in the CAPS LOCK key began to wane. I lined up a clean sheet of paper with a carbon set. I rolled them into the platen. ``Now, you type on that, and then I'll show you what you've done.''
The keys buzzed. He stopped to consider what he'd typed, rolled the paper down a ways, and buzzed those keys again. Finally, he said, decisively, ``I'm finished.''
I took out the paper and separated the carbon set. His eyes got big. His face lit up. ``Cool!'' he declared.
Which is, in 4-year-old, the highest accolade possible.
Now, I think this indicates some special bond between us. And maybe he thinks so, too. For ``last night,'' he insisted that the books he wanted from the library were two from the Young Adult section. Then he spent a good 15 minutes last night leafing through them.
``Look,'' he declared when he came to Chapter 14. ``That's my number.'' He pointed to the ``4'' in 14. ``How old are you?'' he then asked me.
``Forty-four,'' I said. ``Two fours, side by side.''
He considered this a minute. Then said, ``My friend Evelyn is 4, too. Just like you and me.''
Monty S. Leitch is a Roanoke Times columnist.
by CNB