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Please Don't Write Anything Ever Again

Please Don't Write Anything Ever Again

By Jimmy Jacobson

It is a silver Cross pen that was gifted to me upon my graduation from high school by a relative from whom I did not expect even a thought or card, much less a present. Not being the type of person to place value on objects beyond that of their utility, I placed it in a drawer along side more common Bic brand pens.

On the occasion of a phone call requiring annotation of a message, I reached for a pen at random from my drawer and came up with the silver Cross pen. Giving a twist to the lower half of the pen with my left hand while gripping the top of the pen in my right, I first appreciated the construction and weight of the pen. Here was an object created with a purpose beyond the bottom line of some giant plastics manufacturer, here was an item crafted to do one job, do it well, and look good doing it.On the occasion of a phone call requiring annotation of a message, I reached for a pen at random from my drawer and came up with the silver Cross pen. Giving a twist to the lower half of the pen with my left hand while gripping the top of the pen in my right, I first appreciated the construction and weight of the pen. Here was an object created with a purpose beyond the bottom line of some giant plastics manufacturer, here was an item crafted to do one job, do it well, and look good doing it.

Exhilarated by the prospect of drawing first ink from this marvelous writing implement, I momentarily forgot the message I was supposed to be taking. Asking the telephone, “Could you repeat that please?” I put silver Cross pen to paper and.... I again put pen to paper and... Nothing. The pen would not write, I asked the telephone, “Please hold for a minute.” I gave the pen a shake and a few test scratches across the margin of the paper before me. Still nothing appeared other than deep scratch impressions under the finely crafted weight of the silver Cross pen.

Disgusted, I dropped the pen back into the drawer and reached for a lidless blue Bic, reasoning that a pen without a top had often been tested and found equal to any task set before it

Dictation complete, I pondered the silver Cross pen. Perhaps the ink cartridge was bad. I didn't see myself going through the effort of fixing a pen that didn't write the first time I needed it, and so I threw it into the trash.

Reflecting on that day, I wonder if I somehow offended that silver Cross pen by placing it in a drawer of its more common brethren and then discarding it. If so, refusing to write under the firm pressure of my hand is the least of the retribution it has taken on me. From that point in my life, every major event of disastrous magnitude that has befallen me has begun with the words, "Is this your pen?" and ended with me once again trying to rid myself of the dreaded, useless and now cursed silver Cross pen.

to be continued...