My Mother’s Armenian Manual Typewriter

Vahe H. Apelian

My mother was born and raised in Keurkune, Kessab in Syria and taught Armenian language and literature during her entire productive life in Syria, Lebanon and then in the U.S.. She left behind hundreds of beautifully handwritten pages. On unlined blank sheets of paper she has written neatly and on a straight line; line after line, pages after pages. She had a beautiful handwriting. At least, I know of no other whose natural effortless Armenian handwriting is as beautiful as hers was. She was also endowed with an uncanny ability for committing poems by heart much like a recording. She loved Armenian poetry and had a habit of writing them down for her enjoyment. She also loved and prepared group recitations, Khmpayin Asmoung in Armenian, for her students to recite. Such group recitations were, as I am not sure if they still are, time-honored traditions at the graduation ceremonies from Armenian schools.  I invite interested readers to read my following blog: http://vhapelian.blogspot.com/2017/10/tribute-to-art-khmpayin-asmoungner.html

Along with her handwritten papes, she left instruction with an unmistakable message that reads in English: “

-                Do not treat my handwritten notes ungently.

-                Keep my albums in a corner.  Do not throw them away. At times you look for something and cannot find them.

-                Love, learn and speak the Armenian language. That is a blessing and a sacredness.”

Surely it leaves me with a great burden as her only surviving child. A year ago I had part of her handwritten group recitations assembled and published as 260 pages long, 8”x11” size book, titling it “Group Recitations”. I am in the process of assembling the rest of her group recitations as the second volume of a sequel.

Her handwritten notes reminded of the following. Decades ago, my mother purchased an Armenian font manual typewriter. It was not an on the spur of the moment purchase. Armenian font manual typewriters were fabricated upon request. It was an expensive proposition, especially for a teacher in Armenian schools. She spent almost a year saving from her salary for her acquisition of a typewriter.

She knew how to type on a regular typewriter. She  committed herself learning to type on the Armenian font typewriter. That was it. I do not think she ended typing a letter on it. She did not like the fonts.

Some time ago I found in her papers a typewritten report by the late Rev. Aram Hadidian, on the founding of the one time Sin El Fil Armenian Evangelical School. The fonts indeed look very dull. There is no appeal whatsoever. It is made to be functional and that’s all.  The technology or the mindset may not have been there to impart to the fonts appeal along with their functionality.

An example of Armenian manual typewriter fonts

I was also reminded of a movie about Steve Jobs. In a dramatized scene Steve Jobs fired one of their best programmers because he questioned the need to devote time and effort to have different scripts on the McIntosh computer when they were facing so many challenges to overcome; but Steve Jobs was adamant. He attributed his appreciation of the importance of having different appealing calligraphy on the McIntosh to his attending a calligraphy class  during his short stay in college.

My mother's handwriting on plain unlined paper

By the time the computers became available, my mother was too much set in her ways to ever consider learning word processing. She remained oblivious of the beautiful fonts out there. She resorted to the only way she knew, handwriting.

As to the Armenian font manual typewriter, it was shipped along with other household items from Lebanon as the family moved in, one by one, and settled in the U.S.  Sometime ago I donated it to the Armenian Library and Museum of America, in Watertown, MA. The original ribbon was still on it. I typed a line on a page indicating that this typewriter is being gifted to the Armenian museum and had her Armenian manual typewriter shipped there.