I suppose I'm one of those odd people, at least in this day and age, who have used a fountain pen almost exclusively since childhood-although, according to several of the bios I've read here, I'm in good company.
The first fountain pen I owned was a green and black, medium-nibbed Pelikan 120, which my father gave me for my 12th birthday in 1963. My mother's gift to me that year was a box of quite nice stationary and a book of famous letters written throughout history.
I clearly remember spending hour upon pleasant hour hand-copying those letters with my new pen, and I recall how astounded my parents were at the frequency with which I seeemed to need another bottle of ink.
Needless to say, with all that writing and copying, my penmanship soon rivaled that of most adults. And my understanding and knowledge of grammar, punctuation, spelling, syntax, etc. seemed to increase similarly. While I can't be sure, I've often wondered whether I would have pursued by career as writer and editor without those marvelous early experiences with pen, ink, and words.
While my friends and classmates used wooden pencils, ball pens, and later felt tips, I stuck with my Pelikan, even though some of the cheap paper used in class caused the ink to bleed terribly. Fortunately, I was large for my age and good at sports, so even the most reproachful of my peers didn't dare tease me about my "fancy pen."
When I graduated from the university, my mother gave me the Parker Duofold that had belonged to my father. The Parker and my Pelikan, with never a single repair to either, stood me in good stead until a year ago when I bought another Pelikan, this time an M800. It is now the pen I carry with me always. Its size and weight are perfect in my hand, and the medium nib is so smooth that I find myself actually smiling as I spread words across the page.
And I still find myself running out of ink.
Yours truly,
Linwood Rich
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