EVERYDAY ADVENTURES

Fighting Words

I’ve had plenty of people mad at me over the years, but few can compare to the guy who showed up at my door in his boxer shorts at 3:00 a.m. Now that guy wanted to punch me.

To understand what made this fellow so angry, you have to remember it was 1993, and we were in the technological dark ages. It made everyone a little grumpy.

We had no cell phones, wireless earbuds, social media, A.I. or tablets —except the spiral bound kind. The only blue tooth we had came from eating blue M&M’s, and those didn’t hit the market until 1995. 

We had no cell phones, wireless earbuds, social media, A.I. or tablets —except the spiral bound kind. The only blue tooth we had came from eating blue M&M’s, and those didn’t hit the market until 1995. Also, without phones to stare at all day, we had to actually talk to people, read books and look around occasionally.

It was a pretty bleak time.

However, when I started college, I had in my possession a cutting-edge piece of tech that heralded a brighter future: the Brother Word Processing Typewriter.

Just imagine if all you ever had was an old-school electric typewriter. Then imagine if you had that same typewriter with a tiny LED screen stuck between the keyboard and the paper! Pretty awesome, right?

As the title suggests you could use this product as a straight-up typewriter, or you could get fancy and compose your work on the postage-stamp-sized screen just above the keys.

When I say postage stamp sized, that’s not much of an exaggeration. The screen had only enough room for two lines of text with 40 characters on each line.

However, you could actually type, format and edit about ten pages digitally before you filled up the memory. Then, when you wanted to print it, you just hit the print command, and the typewriter would start clacking away like a literary player piano.

It took a couple of minutes to print a single page before you’d have to manually insert a fresh piece of paper. But it was so worth it just to have the ability to edit before printing. Remember, this was the dark ages.

It took a couple of minutes to print a single page before you’d have to manually insert a fresh piece of paper. But it was so worth it just to have the ability to edit before printing. Remember, this was the dark ages.

You may be thinking to yourself. Wait a minute. Wasn’t this 1993? Didn’t your school have computer labs?

Of course they did, but I could use the Brother Word Processing Typewriter in the convenience of my own dorm room without having to trek across campus and find a lab that was open all night. I didn’t have enough money to buy my own computer, but this little beauty was the next best thing.

The only downside, however, was once you started printing, it sounded like a pack of firecrackers in a metal pan, and not everyone worked on last-minute papers at three in the morning like me.

Especially the guy whose room was directly beneath mine. No, apparently all he did was lie in his bed, seething in anger while the bozo above him cluelessly typed away.

And believe me, I typed plenty! I’m pretty fast when I have a deadline and can really crank out the pages so by the time I heard the pounding on my door, I had written and printed multiple papers.

Apparently, though, the gentleman who lived beneath me did not appreciate my prolific output.

When I opened the door, this poor guy had reached his boiling point. Red-faced, fists clenched, eyes bulging, he looked like a cartoon character about to blow his top. I remember him having a big mustache, but I may just be thinking of Yosemite Sam.

When I opened the door, this poor guy had reached his boiling point. Red-faced, fists clenched, eyes bulging, he looked like a cartoon character about to blow his top. I remember him having a big mustache, but I may just be thinking of Yosemite Sam.

He said, “My room . . . is right . . . below yours!” He shot a glare over to my typewriter, and that’s when I realized what must have happened. I started calculating how much I’d printed and realized this guy must have been stewing for hours before he’d finally paid me a visit.

I said, “Oh, can you hear that all the way downstairs?”

And that’s when I think he was debating between punching me, throwing the typewriter out the window or both.

However, before he could make that call, I simply apologized. I was in the wrong. I felt genuinely bad for keeping this guy up and told him I’d keep it to more reasonable hours. It immediately diffused the situation. The steam just went out of him all at once.

Honestly, I don’t think he was expecting an apology. He didn’t really know what to do with it. He mumbled something about it being okay and shuffled off to bed.

Proverbs 15:1 says, “A gentle answer turns away wrath.” Like most proverbs, that’s a general principle and not a foolproof guarantee. However, a gentle answer, and an honest apology, sure doesn’t hurt when tempers flare.

I wish I could tell you that I’ve always responded to anger with such humility, but that would be far from the truth. More times than I care to admit, I’ve been defensive, frustrated or lashed out with sarcasm.

I wish I could tell you that I’ve always responded to anger with such humility, but that would be far from the truth. More times than I care to admit, I’ve been defensive, frustrated or lashed out with sarcasm.

It’s no big surprise that those types of answers do not turn away wrath or show people how much they matter to God.

Sometimes I think what I need in times like this is a good old-fashioned word processor. Not my stone-aged college typewriter, but a wise and faithful friend who can help me process my words before they leave my mouth.

Thankfully there’s a God who loves me enough to do just that, a God whose patience with me can overflow to others through the words I choose or choose not to speak. •