There's the Nib

Today I threw away a pen. It was a somber event.

My act was deliberate and not without consideration. I had just completed writing four pages longhand with said pen, and it had become clear that the pen was reaching the last of its useful life. The ink flow, which had been smooth, clear and even, began to scratch and skip, creating thick/thin strokes and leaving little blobs at the pressure points. It was time to let go.

I have had a profound and inexplicable love affair with pens since I was first allowed to write with one. There has never been a time in my life that I have not had a favorite pen.

It began in school with the 19¢ Bic pens, the ones with the clear hexagonal plastic barrel and the pull-off cap. For some obscure reason, we were forbidden by teachers to use any color but blue. When I first saw such a pen with black ink, I was enchanted. It looked so foreign, so grown-up, so official. Thus began my passion for black ink. It has been my ink color of choice ever since.

Eventually, those Bic pens began to evolve. First the price went up to a quarter, though for some reason we continued to refer to them as the 19¢ Bic. Then the barrel was changed to a round, opaque plastic. Somewhere along the line, they lost their cachet for me. I began to seek my writing pleasures elsewhere.

I flirted with cartridge pens. I experimented with calligraphy. I dallied with metallic inks. In the end, though, I returned to my first love: the basic ball point. I didn’t stray again until my chosen pen went out of production. I was bereft.

I loved the old-time office supply stores where the pens were all displayed in open barrels. Any pen could be picked up, held, checked for weight and balance, tested for writing aesthetics on a pad of scratch paper conveniently attached to the display. The advent of plastic packaging has destroyed the sensuous pleasure of test-driving pens.

Unlike a lot of people, I’ve never had a problem hanging on to pens. I don’t lose them or leave them behind, and if someone unthinkingly tries to walk away with my pen, I always catch them in the act. That’s my pen, thank you very much. And I don’t often walk away with anyone else’s pen, either. When I do, I make a point of returning it. That sometimes gets me strange looks, even comments on how little pens matter. I fail to get the point.

Now I’m not a pen snob. In fact, I collect pens as if I feared a pen shortage might occur. I’m certain I have at least fifty pens in my house at this moment. I might have a hundred. And all kinds of pens, too: cheap ball points, advertising giveaways, pens that came attached to memo pads. I have pens with blue, black, green, red and purple ink. I have a letter-sized tin filled with pens. I have a pen holder on my desk filled with pens. I have at least five or six pens floating around in the bottom of my purse.

I also have writing pencils, drawing pencils, map pencils, felt-tip markers (fine, medium and wide), wipeboard markers, highlighters, grease pencils, editing pencils, china markers, laundry markers and artist’s charcoals. I have implements that will write on any surface, in any color, to any degree of permanence you might desire.

I use all of these instruments at one time or another, but none of them holds the place in my heart reserved for “my” pen.

At present, my pen of choice is a Uni-ball Deluxe Fine. Its barrel is smooth and round, soft gold in color. Its tip and trim are jet black. And so is the ink, of course. The ink flow is smooth and even, and the stroke is not too thin and not too thick but just right. These pens do have their flaws: the gold coloring is fragile and will flake off with repeated use, and the soft plastic of the barrel yields to pressure in a way that my cats find toothsome. Any such pen I’ve had for a while is covered with irregular erosions of the gold plastic coating and multiple fang piercings from cat assaults. Still, it is a fine pen. I buy them by the boxful. I’m never without a few of them.

At a recent event, I put out two guest registers and laid a brand new Uni-ball Deluxe Fine pen at each book. As I stood near the table, someone picked up one of them and commented, “Nice pen.”

I felt so proud.