The memory of that pen is like a stream from ancient times, and its source cannot be seen. In the flow of time, the brushy stream is sometimes tinkling and sometimes quiet; Sometimes it goes underground, and sometimes it comes out of the ground. The marriage of pen and paper has fixed the true face of history and created the beauty of imagination. I don't often use pens these years, for one thing, because I am lazy, and for another, because I have a computer. A little confused, some words that have to be written can be done by tapping the keyboard, saved on floppy disks, modified and read conveniently. While lamenting modern high-tech, feelings and nostalgia for pens also come to mind.
For the pen, what impressed me the most was a life-long pen with a rotating cover and flowing marbles with black characters on a white background. This pen was given to me by my uncle who works outside when he came to my home. There are four brothers and sisters, one for each of us. My brother's pen is the same as mine, but the color is green to prevent confusion and disputes when using it; Our two sisters' pens are much more delicate than ours, one red and one green, which are equally easy to recognize. I was in the fourth grade of primary school at that time. In my class, my pen is the most advanced, which aroused the envy and jealousy of my classmates. I cherish pens very much. I never show them to others easily except writing in class. In order to prevent it from being lost, my mother specially sewed a narrow small bag to make it elastic. When the pen is not in use, let it sleep in a small bag and tie it to the button ring of the skirt with a rope.
The use of this pen has changed the history that every time I finish writing, my hands, notebooks and even my lips and face are full of hieroglyphs. At that time, the school required all students above grade three to write with pens. I just learned to use a pen, and I still can't completely control an old pen in my hand. That is a pen that was eliminated by my brother and repaired by my father. The handwriting is thin and thick, and it is often criticized by teachers. Sometimes it even says that these words are the marks left by a fly crawling on paper with ink. Sometimes when the pen doesn't go in the water, I bite my teeth and pull out my hair. I squeezed it into the gap in the middle of the pen tip and dragged it down. There is a certain gap in the middle of the next nib, and the ink is smooth. Then I pulled out my hair and made it about a centimeter long to monitor the pen tip and my writing. At this time, the ink has been touched. Sometimes without writing a few words, the pen tip suddenly spits out a pool of ink, which makes you hard to prevent.
At that time, the pen in the student's hand looked strange and experienced many twists and turns. Some pen parts are pieced together, some are tossed by several people, some are recovered, some are rewarded for excellent grades, and some are stolen by pen lovers ... This pen has left people with pleasant, hearty, bitter and embarrassing memories.
Ink and pen complement each other. At that time, ink was expensive and hard to buy. If you are doing your homework and the ink is dry, you can borrow a few drops from your deskmate. Head-to-head, the focus is to prevent half a drop of ink from falling to the ground and wasting it. Of course, I don't forget to return it the next day.
In the winter morning, while eating hot potato, we threw the peeled potato skin on the ground, followed our little pig to search for potato skin to eat, and followed us all the way to the school gate. When I entered the classroom, there was a layer of smoke, and the stove made of clods and soil was burning. Smoke came out one after another, spread to the herringbone roof, and then whirled down to escape from the gap under the roof beam. We took out our pens, unscrewed the cap and back cover, took the pencil case frozen into a hard stick to the stove and baked it carefully. The ink in it melted and the bell rang.
The words written in the exercise book are blue, black and green, while the words written in the draft book are more vivid, with red and yellow. And colorful handwriting. There is a carpet factory in our village. Pigments for dyeing wool in carpet factories are often brought out, and there are colorful handwriting in the village. In addition to the color of the text, some students' drafts are also colorful. The students who have colored books are the top students in the class, and the class cadres also enjoy this kind of colored books. Teacher Jia is an educated youth from the city, with fine eyes and dark skin, and often wears a white work clothes. I don't know where she got some colored paper. These papers are thick, one side is smooth and the other side is rough. When writing on the smooth side, she will encounter many different lengths of straw exposed on it, which often blocks her writing, so she writes around. If she goes around line by line, many semicircles or beautiful geometric patterns centered on straw will be formed, and even layers of beautiful terraces will appear. A few lines of handwriting are a little scrawled, but it doesn't affect writing. Write blue words on yellow paper and black words on green paper. ...
There is a kind of pen that we have always wanted. One year, a mainlander who specializes in carving flowers, birds, fish and insects on pens came to the school gate. He is wearing a small hat and carrying a worn tool bag. A pair of small eyes can see a student's heart. If he asks you a few random questions, you will know what you are thinking. With a pen in one hand and a knife in the other, those stubby hands began to draw on your plastic pen body and cap. The clever tip of the knife flew up and down, and several plastic filaments floated away one after another. Then, the pencil carver took out a small box from his bag, took out all kinds of crayons from it, smeared them all over the pen, and finally showed them with a pinch of his thumb, just like a colorful picture with wings flying: an eagle, a flying carp, or some flowers and plants, and the owner or official seal of the pen. Each student's brushwork is different, the old and the new are different, and the picture above is different. Students get these pens, and with brushes, they cherish their pens more.
Later, whenever a classmate bought a new pen, he looked forward to the arrival of the sculptor, but the sculptor never appeared in our remote mountain village again. There are no pencil sculptors, and some students still have new brushes in their hands, and colored ink flows every day, leaving calculus problems or immature exercises on colored toilet paper. That is to say, after seeing those fresh and wonderful pictures, our teacher Jia also mastered the skills of painting and lettering on the pen through imitation practice. At the end of each semester, students who are commended by the school will get a painting and a pen painted by Mr. Jia, which reads "Award to a classmate", which is rare and what everyone wants most. I regret that I never got such a pen with special meaning when I was in primary school.
In the late 1980s, I graduated from the county normal school and was assigned to a remote mountain village as a teacher. In my spare time, I write poems and articles. In the provincial newspaper, "tofu blocks" often turn into type, and when you get the sample newspaper, you will smell a faint ink. I often thank a pen that writes fluently. It is my writing tool and my close friend. I usually like calligraphy and seal cutting, and I often write two strokes when I am interested. At the end of the semester, when the school commended and rewarded students, I also carved flowers and characters on my pen as prizes. The students all like it very much, and I still can't forget the special feeling of drawing brush when I was young. Touching the exquisite pen, looking at the flowers, birds, fish and insects with smooth lines, and looking at the fonts of either Kai or Li or Seal, a warm memory comes to mind again.
That autumn moon, I scribbled on the manuscript paper as usual and put it in an envelope. One by one, I flew to the end of the world. Some pigeons disappeared, and some flew back to my desk in gorgeous clothes. On Teacher's Day, I received a gift from my brother ... a perfume iridium pen.
This is a Jin pen on a plexiglass box carpet. It is titanium gold, and its appearance is a bit angular. The model and the word "hero" are engraved on the edge of the hat. What is different is that there is a round reticular sachet on the cap, and the sachet is filled with sponge. A small bottle of perfume is attached to the box, and the perfume is injected into the sachet, and the fragrance spreads and penetrates into the heart. When climbing the grid to sleep at night, I subconsciously smell the scent of sachet, and my brain suddenly got a tingle, and my brain immediately woke up.
My brother gave me a perfume pen to encourage me to write seriously, and I understand its intention. Just often reluctant to use, occasionally hidden, and other pens are not used less. Once a friend came to visit and saw an essay I published, and he praised it again and again. I showed off with a magic pen, and then he looked at the perfume iridium pen and said, enjoy it and feel the magic of iridium pen by the way. I lent him my pen. Later, he said that he had accidentally lost his perfume pen, and he also said that he would buy one and return it to me. Later, he dropped it. This pen itself is very rare and precious. What is more precious is my brother's expectation and deep affection concentrated in it. It's a pity that the perfume pen is lost. I paid the price for my vanity and fame.
In the days to come, I don't know how many pens I have in my hand, preparing lessons, correcting homework and climbing grids. All kinds of pens come and go, come and go For a while, I practiced calligraphy seriously, studied famous calligraphy and tried to figure out the meaning of calligraphy. I'm starting to feel something. I began to feel that China's calligraphy was extensive and profound, and an expression of pleasure flowed from the fingertips to the whole body.
During the period, I was wrapped in a pen meaning, that is, correcting students' homework, and I also felt possessed by the calligraphy style of Jin and Tang Dynasties. I sliced bamboo chopsticks, made several bamboo pens of different sizes and dipped them in red ink to correct my homework. Cross-checking is heavy and big, and cross-checking is light and small. Comments are slightly prioritized according to different contents, and the composition is patchy.
A year ago, I went to the provincial library to check the information, and suddenly I remembered the old man who repaired the pen at the door. It was a few years ago, except for windy and rainy days. As long as the library is open for business, you will definitely see a hunchbacked old man in protective clothing sitting by the car, burying his head in writing with a pen. There is a box in the car, and the lid is neatly opened and divided into many neat squares. There are all kinds of pen accessories in it, some are brand-new and some are removed from broken pens, as well as pliers, knives, all-purpose glue and other tools. On a worn satchel, there are some old newspaper clippings wrapped in plastic film, which is the witness of the pen's decades of pen power. These articles published in different newspapers and periodicals in different periods describe the persistent or magical calligraphy life of the elderly. I don't know if the old man who repaired the pen today can't come because of illness, or it is difficult to do business at home. Libraries are places frequented by cultural people. Many people have repaired pens here, and the figure of the old man may be fixed in some people's memories.
With the advent of the computer age, new writing tools have been diversified, the writing function of pens has been weakened, and perhaps the once heavy responsibility has been gradually unloaded. The society has entered the era of high-speed operation and rapid consumption, and the convenience, quickness, simplicity and cheapness of disposable products are attracting people. Those ordinary pens covered with dust in shop windows have long been sleepy. The pen lying on the luxury counter in a gorgeous coat is waiting for the right person to whitewash the lack of culture, or to be a stepping stone in a special mission, or to collect long-lasting memories. ...
10 years ago, the famous female writer Bi Shumin wrote an essay "Marry a Pen", saying that the writer was invited to attend the pen exchange meeting organized by the Federation of Literary and Art Circles and could exchange her pen for a computer with a market price of seven or eight thousand yuan. The intention of the actual operator of the pen club is obvious, but the writers are caught in a difficult choice.
Pens used to be no longer a symbol of knowledge. Hanging an empty pen cap in a uniform pocket to show off the market is a thing of the past. The brilliance of the pen disappeared before our eyes like the last ray of sunshine on Jinlin Mountain, and the pen was dim. Fortunately, we have many ways to record, express and recall our fading paleness and richness.