When I was Poor … Hey, Wait a Minute

I came across this picture while looking for the photograph I sent my mother from my first job after college.  It’s me in my twenties.  A typewriter!  I remember that typewriter. I was so proud. Sigh.  The olden days.  I made the poor crack because apparently I couldn’t afford book shelves. But the cigarettes, oh God the cigarettes. Camel nonfilter no less.  I quit smoking when I was 33 and I’m crossing my fingers that I quit soon enough.

Stacy Horn

I've written six non-fiction books, the most recent is Damnation Island: Poor, Sick, Mad, and Criminal in 19th-Century New York.

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4 thoughts on “When I was Poor … Hey, Wait a Minute

  1. I finally donated my typewriter (that I used through college) to the Salvation Army. It was smaller, but thicker than yours and had a detachable lid so you could tote it around with you.

    Almost seems unfathomable now in the digital age …

  2. a selectric! I remember those…in fact, I still say “return” rather than “enter” which often causes a great deal of confusion with the youngsters.

  3. Not everyone who smoked gets disease from it. My grandfather smoked until something else killed him at the age of 90. Focus on how well you feel now and you’ll be fine.

  4. I’m trying!!

    Re: old typewriters – I remember being so thrilled that my typewriter could go back and erase typos, and I didn’t have to stick in that little piece of white paper, remember that? Oh god, the process was so impossible.

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