For my birthday on Tuesday, Winnie got me a Lamy fountain pen. I'd call it a replacement for the Parker Vector pen that shattered in my pocket during a particularly unpleasant day three weeks ago, except that it's too nice for replacement
to be at all appropriate. I told Mom about this on the phone this morning, and Mom said Your grandma would have approved; she loved goor writing instruments, and hated poorly made pens. 'Those balky old things,' she called them.
Did she shake her head and scowl a little when she said that?
I asked. Yes,
said Mom, just like I do.
And my aunts -- and me, for that matter,
I said. I guess some things remain constant through generations.