This Years Cahier
Making ready the new Moleskine, a thoroughly satisfying annual task. The ceremony demands a Good Pen and a hopeful heart. Farewell constant companion of 2009. I'll pop you on the shelf now with the others, your leaves sigh, rest your spine. Not without sadness, it's been quite the year and we are both scarred with the scribbles and scores of the journey. If journalism is the first stage of history, the yearly quire is the first stop of memory.
My Fathers apprentice notebooks fascinated as a child. Oversized stern-backed exercises in engineering. Green and pink ruled feint and margin in imperial proportion. Stiff fibrous pages, before they made them thin and shiny, densely hatched with physics. Calculations and mysterious symbols in his neat light pen. They were incomprehensible and beautiful and utterly satisfying. After both my Grandfathers died small notebooks were found in their wake. Recipes or random words, repeated again and again in that long elegant scribe men used to have. A little shaky by the end, journeymen's knuckles gnarled by the float and the plane.