Call me a sentimental history buff, but the stories evoked by material objects and artifacts have always intrigued me. Relics come alive when we see the patina on a Roman coin, trace the cracks on a weathered headstone, and smell the decay of an old book. Objects involve their makers and their owners. They soak up energy and atmosphere and carry it forward in time to an appreciative audience. Their sometimes-quaint technologies communicate how much life has changed, for better or for worse. 

Relics are often rare, precious objects, but they can also be quite mundane. For example, I recently attended the St. Louis Pen Show—a gathering of fountain pen fanciers. (And good ballpoint and rollerball pens. And mechanical pencils. And really nice paper. And ink. Can’t forget the ink.) 

I think fountain pen enthusiasm goes from nerdy all the way back around the bend to cool. I didn’t grow up using fountain pens but took up with a Sheaffer Student Pen at some point in my pretentious late-teen years. A calligraphy fountain pen gift a few years back inspired me to hunt up that Sheaffer, and I eventually rediscovered it in the back of a desk drawer. Its proper cartridges were available on Amazon, and the pen writes just fine, no fuss, no muss, after sitting idle for decades. That’s craftsmanship. And this was a really cheap pen. 

Right about the time I found my Sheaffer—the stars definitely in alignment—I was gifted with a Pilot Metropolitan. Welcome to the world of ink! So many inks—all the inks—could go into this pen, thanks to the trusty cartridge converter. 

I have a computer, and I’m writing this blog on it right now. My MacBook Pro is the tool for this job. However, yesterday I wrote a poem, in the style of a 17^thcentury Celtic ballad, with a dip pen manufactured in the 1890s. Different job, different tool. 

What’s the appeal of old stuff? A few things come to mind:

Touching History. A vintage pen is a missive from the past. A person owned this object, used it to write letters, or novels, or grocery lists. A pen manufacturer engineered, produced, and marketed this bit of material culture to our great-grandparents. The pen might have been a status symbol for some and an educational tool for others; part of one’s public image as well as a fundamental means of communication. 

Sensory Experience. Writing with a good pen, be it a fountain pen or a newer technology, is pleasant. The plethora of cheaply made ballpoints in our lives make it easy to feel the contrast. With a quality pen in hand, the mind slows down and focuses. Thoughts flow to paper in a meditative trance. 

A Work of Art. Pens can look really good. Some are blinged out and others tastefully constructed from precious materials, but the high-end pen market is a place where artists and their creations really shine. 

A Fascinating Machine. The history of fountain pens is a history of creative innovation, problem solving, and more than a little industrial espionage. Improvements in ink-filling system, nib design, and other pen components were taken very seriously. 

And so, I go to pen shows and gawk at fountain pens selling for thousands of dollars and lust after vintage Parker 51s. I write about the 1920s—surely an authentic, period fountain pen is a business expense?