Benched, Week 68: the smallest strokes

Sometimes, it’s not about what you write, but how you write it.

I hadn’t planned on posting during our family’s pre-Christmas trip to Williamsburg, but there I was, on a bench inside the Visitor’s Center, waiting for Alison and Grace to finish their shopping for something to remember the beauty of the season in colonial times.



Across from me sat a lonely Ben Franklin.   In front of him, three quill pens angled out of an inkwell like an emaciated headdress. Books, CDs and business cards filled out the table around him.  Ever the entrepreneur, that Ben.



“Book signings can be lonely vigils,” I commented.

He agreed.  And just like that, we began swapping stories of promoting our work, presenting in schools and finally, our interest in handwriting.

Ben’s alter ego was Mike, a former homicide chief detective from Baltimore.  In his retirement, he had discovered a fascination of old-style penmanship.  He was eager to demonstrate.

Dip.  Shake.  Scratch.  The pen moved carefully over the paper.

As he wrote, he informed me that a flourish was added below to keep someone else from turning a signature into a promissory note.  (“Ben Franklin… owes Bruce Van Patter a dozen Ben Franklins.”)



When he finished, I tried my hand at it.



It probably comes as no surprise to you, gentle readers, that I love lettering.  A good pen is like a found treasure.  I regularly study new typefaces, reveling in the nuances of different tails, legs and bowls.  (Type-geek speak, sorry.)  I seek to flourish in flourishing.

But more importantly, I’ve found that purposeful lettering is one of the simplest ways to add a little delight to someone’s day.  Recently, I’ve been taking an extra couple of minutes to fashion a note to housekeeping in hotels.



It’s a good analogy to hold onto as we peer expectantly into the new year.  Grand acts of kindness have their place, but cultivating a regular practice of little, regular gestures of unexpected grace may be more impactful.  For me, it could be a hand-written note to a stranger or lettered verses, specially selected for my wife and kids as a Christmas morning surprise.

To stroke the right note: a small thing with a big potential to bless.