Our evolving world continues to change and adapt to so many new things, that little we know it or not, the trusty #2 pencil, the one we were taught to write our names with, take tests, jot notes, chew on like beavers, and stick behind our ears and forget, is becoming an afterthought.
When did it go downhill for the thin small wooden stick with the lead inside of it? Was it the creation of the mechanical pencils that became the calling card of nerds with pocket protectors in the 80’s? The crummy erasable pens in junior high? God bless Bic, they tried to make a perfect pen that was to copycat what the pencil did.
As I fumbled the pencil in my left hand, those memories cascade like lugnuts being knocked out of little Ralphie Parker’s hands in “A Christmas Story.” Our world is flowing towards ways to be efficient, green, and ever technologically savvy.
But like the newspaper and the Saturday Evening Post, the pencil has become comfort tools that we run our hands on, for sentimental reasons, more than for it’s usage.
Should it be hung on the wall on a plaque, next to the grizzly bear and Bambi’s uncle? Should ever active children be allowed to strengthen it’s teeth and chomping on it like human typewriters?
This ode to the pencil is silly at best, but it’s one to think about when you pick up the nearest writing tool your hands can grab. Never blue, black, red, or green. The fading gray of lead and the solitary sound it makes on the paper as your write out your thoughts in cursive, or chicken scratch.