I didn’t like it when Michael Terry — of the restaurant Elizabeth on 37th — and his wife Elizabeth left Savannah, but they didn’t ask me and I have left towns before, too. So I understand moving on to the next adventure. Yet Michael’s acts of kindness and humor and concern remained behind — the way he fought to keep the Carnegie library downtown, the books he recommended, how he worked to raise money to preserve an art collection by a local artist.

But damn, I really didn’t like hearing of Michael’s passing the other day. Somehow you always think you’ll see these people again, either in Savannah or somewhere else, when you can talk politics or books or gardening.

Death: it’s so darn final.

The sign at Asbury Memorial United Methodist Church

So Abby, the young woman who sits next to me in my gender and globalization class, says, “I like your bracelet” and I say, “Thanks. I wear it a lot but it’s a little awkward when I’m at my typewriter” and she says, “What’s that?” and I say, “What’s a typewriter?” and she says, “Yeah” and I say, “It’s a keyboard” and she says, “What’s that?” and I say, “Like on a computer” and she says, “What’s that on your hands, paint?” and I say, “No, it’s tumeric” and she says, “What’s that?” and I say, “It’s a spice, like in curry” and she says, “I love curry” and I say, “You’d love a typewriter, too.”

So then I go to a typewriter store to take a picture of this 1903 L.C. Smith and I see a note tucked into the carriage from a customer. It reads: “Please do not permit the computer to destroy the typewriter!!!”

I wonder if anyone has broken the news to her.

The precursor to the Smith Corona