“When you are first starting to write,
you don’t need to buy a whole lot of things.
What you need most is a fierce desire to put things down on paper;
and you need a certain sensibility, a way of seeing and feeling.”
~ Elizabeth Berg, Escaping Into the Open
For many people, in many parts of the world, this time of the year anticipates the liminal season that sees the late summer dovetail into early autumn. Northern New Englanders still have many shirtsleeve days of picnic temperatures, yet we can sense the transition. Light patterns and air currents call to mind what many call “back to school” season. Whether we are current students, recent graduates, instructors, or those whose school days reach into the previous century, this week’s cooler breezes are familiar old songs. As with music closely held, each of us have our own references for changing skies and passages of time.
Late August remains a slide toward Labor Day weekend. In childhood, summer camp ended at about this time, and the weeks leading into the start of the school year provided a breather. Later on, work schedule changes paved a gradual way into the collegiate routines. And still later on, the season became one of lesson plan resurrection. Time calls us inside from outdoor wanderings, sandlots, bug bites, popsicles, and shorts; life aligns with the seasons. Not surprisingly, this writer remembers the annual re-equipping for the academic year. The images of new shoes- and their aromas- come to mind. Fresh new notebooks, pencils, and other related materials, heralded the new embarkation. As with the new shoes and backpacks, the unused supplies had their own memorable aromas that came to associate with new ventures.
In this seasonal spirit, I’ve called upon my friend and fellow New Englander Mr. Roger Russell, who thankfully keeps numerous Scripto pencil writers renewed and refreshed with his inventory. Vaguely remembering the translucent, telescoped-graphite Scripto from distant childhood, these sturdy mechanical instruments were more recently brought to mind by an elderly colleague. I’ve rounded up enough of the tools to be able to apply Scriptos in larger archival processing group projects. Archival notation must be done in graphite, and alongside wooden pencils, the Scripto thickness is as bold as it is consistent. The graphite refill is as long as the holder itself, extending and retracting by twisting the eraser holder. To me, Scripto is “the fountain pen of pencils.”
Mr. Russell and my senior colleagues remind me of how long Scriptos have been around. The company name dates back more than 80 years, and although the pencils have not been manufactured in nearly 20 years, these resilient American-made tools can be found in many a desk drawer. Mr. Russell’s shop selection includes new Scriptos, along with refills of varying grades and colors. He has authored a Scripto history page which is colorful and informative. He also writes his observations related to backcountry hiking, but he tells me he is neither collector nor creative writer:
“I am more of a scientist than anything else and have other pages I have written about radium, gold and copper. Perhaps someday I will write about carbon that has an atomic weight of only six and exists in so many different forms. It does relate to the carbon used in pencils and the various blends that make the different grades of leads.”
His home page can be found here, and among its extensions there may be more you will want to bookmark. With gratitude, whether une vie en graphite is pursued by an engineer or an artist, the continuation of craftsmanship is equally essential. Here’s wishing all of you good seasons of creativity.