I spent the past half hour changing the ink in my pen. It isn’t an expensive pen. It’s a fairly typical cigar-shaped, fountain pen made by the Conklin company out of Toledo, Ohio. It’s called the “All American” in tortoiseshell brown. I’m guessing it set me back $40 max a couple of years ago when I bought it.
Truth is, the pen has spent most of its life in my desk drawer. Not long after buying it, my Montblanc obsession came on with a vengeance to the point where they’re pretty much the only pens I use. I might have given it a try once or twice after inking it. The nib is still a bit stiff and feels new. Of course, the ink had long dried up, so I tried to give it a thorough cleaning and some TLC this afternoon.
After carefully washing the nib, and flushing out the old ink, I refilled the reservoir with a nice midnight blue ink from my collection. So, imagine my surprise just now when I sat down to write and I saw the same ink that I had flushed from the pen still coming out of the nib.
I’m not sure there’s a bigger point to make here but that’s never stopped me before.
Maybe the point is that it’s harder to flush things from our lives than we realize? Wouldn’t it be a fine thing if we were all just a little kinder to ourselves, and extended a little more grace to others?
Or maybe the lesson is that the parts of life we appreciate the least are the ones closest to us? This pen has been two feet away from me for over two years. Only today did I really pay it any mind. How many people in my life do I treat the same way?
Or maybe it’s about good ole perseverance. This ink has gone through the metaphorical wringer and yet endures. Be like ink.
It probably says more about me that I’m trying to divine lessons from a pen.
Inevitably, gravity will do its job. The brown ink will yield to the hues of blue waiting within the reservoir. The brown puts up a good fight. But it’s a fading remnant soon replaced.
So, for brown, the war is lost even if the battle, for now, is won. Even so, it doesn’t hurt to marvel at the tenacity on display. Indeed, I’d say this trusty Conklin has some heart. It’s no Montblanc. But it doesn’t pretend to be. It’s an everyday, workhorse type of pen. Self-assured. Unprepossessing. As “All-American” as its branding.
Leave your luxury goods and fancy blue inks for another day. It’s a random Wednesday and time to get shit done.
Pax Plena 