I’ve noticed lately that newer readers to this blog often take a peak at older posts. I’ve noticed this because those older posts sometimes show up in my current most-read list.
So, since it’s Saturday, reblogging an old post seemed like a way I could put something here quickly, allowing me to then move on to other duities — like washing dishes and cleaning my office.
I wish everyone a great weekend.
Today’s post started out on another topic.
Gears were shifted, however, and I changed my mind after someone at the nearest desk commented on my typing skills. It seems I hammer away on the keyboard. Judge for yourself.
This should come as no surprise. After all, I’m old.
How old am I? (And if you know from who I borrowed this bit, you’re probably at least as old as I am. Here’s a hint: Click the link and go to 2:43 on the video)
I’m so old that I learned to type on one of these.
It was in 1983-84, my junior year at Chariton High School, in the third-floor classroom of Barb Vogel, my typing teacher. As I recall, the good students in the class got to type on the limited selection of fancy IBM Selectrics. I wasn’t one of the good students, so I learned to pound away…
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Brome Hill 