My Old Man

My old man hated A Christmas Story, and he would have hated being referred to as my old man. I could drag him through one viewing on Christmas Eve, although I’d keep the film on repeat for the annual 24 hour marathon. When I discovered the trailer for A Christmas Story Christmas, I assumed it was some sort of promotion for Pepsi or greeting cards, not an actual feature-length film. I also assumed that it would be a pile of flaming hot garbage, as are many of the money-grabbing remakes of classic movies. Both assumptions were incorrect.

Thirty-three years after the events of the original move, Ralphie is a struggling author and father of two. As he prepares to host his mom and dad for Christmas, in the family’s small apartment, he receives a call from his mom. His old man has passed away. The tragic turn of events sends his family back to his hometown in Indiana to relive the events of his childhood while coping with the loss of his father.

What the film captured so perfectly is a sense of nostalgia for the past that’s sprinkled with the sweet sadness of the present. As Ralphie drives by tall smokestacks that send black plumes skyward, we start to understand that the fuzzy edges of the first film are gone. Ralphie’s once-bustling hometown is now somewhat dingy and dulled with age. The movie hit upon the types of stories my dad would tell about growing up in the mid-late sixties. Grandpa lugged him around to the bars, and the bartender would lie when grandma called to see if he was drinking the day away. Another time, my grandma, experiencing a possible mental breakdown, brought a gun to the bar and would have put an end to grandpa had he not blocked the hammer from striking with the web of his fingers. These were unbelievably different times, and the film brought dad’s stories flooding back.

My Christmas memories are like bugs in prehistoric amber—locked away in a distorted warm glow and just beyond reach. I can almost feel the butterflies from waiting for Santa and the frosty impact of a snowball as it broke apart, sending icy slush down my shirt collar. Christmas Eve at church was a sight to behold. Off-key singers lead us through the usuals, but it was Silent Night by candlelight that felt special. I long left religion behind, but there’s something about memories of rituals like this that still stir something in my soul.

Dad and I had very different childhoods. I made snow angels while he timed oncoming cars so he could sled between them. I played video games while he shot chickens with a BB gun (a crime for which he expressed regret). He’d sneak the occasional cigarette, but I was too timid to sneak anything. I didn’t find out until his death how dad had been the glue that held his childhood friends together. One of his friends still visits the graveyard to leave flowers on his headstone.

On dad’s last Christmas, I lugged the tree out of the garage and through the undersized backdoor into the house. Dad couldn’t stand for long periods of time, so I assembled the tree, then pushed the wicker bench from the sunroom in front of it. I opened a red storage crate and positioned it next to him so he could sit while being able to reach the ornaments inside. In an odd role reversal, I worked on the top of the tree while he filled in one side of the bottom. When he grew tired of decorating, I went back and filled in the gaps.

Decorating the tree in 2018 would be one of the last somewhat-normal memories I’d make with my dad. He’d be in the hospital by the New Year. There’s no clean cut with death. For a while, it felt as if he just ran to the grocery or to get gas. There were lingering reminders—eyeglasses on the table, Christmas presents already wrapped, a chair with an oddly shaped indentation because he leaned to one side. In the film, Ralphie stares longingly at his old man’s armchair, and I know exactly how he felt.

When Ralphie ventures into the attic, he discovers treasures from his past. I went through something similar when cleaning out mom and dad’s house. The stacks of photo albums, old clippings, toys, and decorations all brought long lost memories rushing back. Dad had sold his records years ago, but the cassette tapes remained. I wish I could have given him a sendoff akin to that in Big Fish—allowed him to float down the river and transform into a giant catfish that would live on in local lore for decades. He deserved such a sendoff. The most we could offer was an eclectic visitation soundtrack that included Ray Steven’s The Streak. It turned a few heads, and it’s just what dad would have wanted.

A Christmas Story Christmas ends with Ralphie taking a seat in his old man’s chair and reading the obituary he’s written for the paper. It’s through processing his grief that Ralphie takes his old man’s place as the familial storyteller and through infusing his old man’s spirit into his work that Ralphie forges a new path forward. As Semisonic sings, “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.” Dad would have preferred a Creedence lyric.

The holidays are tough for those who have experienced loss. The memories come flooding back, and we’re reminded that those who made them with us are no longer around to forge new ones. But the grief that comes with remembering also provides an important reminder—the people we lost meant something. At first, I hoped to eradicate grief, or at least tie it up in a neat little box. But trying to eliminate the feeling altogether minimizes the importance of our lost loved ones. Sure, we have to learn to continue living and make peace with loss in order to survive and thrive, but to deny the sweet sadness of loss denies the legacy the lost leave behind. With the holidays comes the chance to remember and infuse our new memories with the stories of the past. Here’s to my old man and his stories.

Kaweco Sport Fountain Pen Review

I vividly remember my first Kaweco arriving on my doorstep. It was early in my fountain pen journey, I hadn’t even written my first book, and I was eager to inject some analog love into my life. I slid the tiny Kaweco box from the beige bubble mailer and marveled at just how cool the Mint Skyline Sport Fountain Pen looked in person. As my collection grew, I eventually packed the pen away, but it still sits near the top of the list of my favorite pens of all time. So, when Goldspot reached out with an offer to try out their new Kaweco Sport Transparent Fountain Pen exclusive, I thought it would be an excellent time to revisit one of my favorite pens. 

She’s a beaut Clark.

This exclusive Kaweco Sport Transparent Fountain Pen comes in blue, but not just any blue. The color is inspired by the 2020 Pantone “Color of the Year” Classic Blue, and it’s a beauty. The pen’s silver accents compliment the transparent blue that edges toward navy. Kaweco fans will immediately recognize the traditional octagonal extended cap of the Sport, and the exclusive blue edition is identical in design, except for a silver Goldspot logo opposing the standard Kaweco logo. Demonstrators are fingerprint magnets, and this Kaweco is no different. Personally, fingerprints don’t bother me, but some pen addicts out there may feel otherwise.

This Kaweco Sport’s color is hard to capture accurately, but it sits between traditional blue and navy when in the sunlight.

In its capped form, the Kaweco Sport Fountain Pen is three-quarters the length of a standard Lamy Safari fountain pen, making it an excellent choice for a pocket-friendly companion. Its cap is threaded and requires one and a quarter turns to uncap. The threads hold the pen closed securely, and I would toss this pen in my pocket with no fears of finding an inky mess later. When posted, it rests comfortably in the web between my thumb and index finger, even though my hands are, let’s say, larger than average. The pen posts with a snug friction fit. Although the pen doesn’t come with a clip, Kaweco sells a slide-on clip that’s snug and sturdy.

The Kaweco Sport Fountain Pen’s grip is on the short and narrow side, although I have written comfortably with it for long periods of time, even with my long spindly fingers. The grip itself is smooth plastic, but the cap threading provides a bit of extra grip to keep it from slipping between fingers. 

Not my best photographic work, but it’s hard to capture Kaweco’s lovely nib etchings with an iPhone camera :-)

Kaweco nib sizing is similar to that of western pens, which run wider than their Japanese counterparts. I tested the Extra Fine nib for this review, and it was a solid performer with no skips or hard starts. Still, I much prefer the Kaweco Fine nib, which is a bit juicier. The nibs also have a detailed Kaweco logo inscription along with a few flourishes. Kaweco sells its own brand of short cartridges for the Kaweco Sport Fountain Pens, but the standard international short cartridge will also work. When I bought my first Kaweco half a decade ago, the only converters available were terrible squeeze converters that never seemed to fill all the way. Fortunately, Kaweco now offers a piston converter, meaning those looking to use their own bottled inks won’t have to rely on skimpy squeeze converters or empty cartridges and syringes. 

I love opinionated pens. From the unique cap design to the Kaweco logo etched in multiple places, it’s impossible to mistake Kaweco for any other brand. As much as the Pilot Metropolitan Fountain Pen is an excellent starter pen, it’s boring. The Kaweco Sport offers a unique, compact design, excellent performance, and an incredibly affordable price point. When I began this review, I wondered if I’d feel that this inexpensive Kaweco had lost its charm, after trying countless more expensive fountain pens. But the Sport holds its own, and it was just as much of a joy to write with and carry as it was years ago. The Sport is an excellent starter pen, but if you’re a long-time enthusiast who has somehow evaded Kaweco Sports for this long, it’s time to try one. And if you’re in the market for a blue transparent beauty, check out Goldspot’s exclusive Kaweco Sport Fountain Pen, while supplies last!

Dozens of reviews later, and my handwriting still hasn’t gotten better. I lightened this shot a bit, to better capture the pen’s color.

Here’s a bonus shot. I love Kaweco’s cap logo and thought it deserved extra attention.

Goldspot provided the Kaweco Sport Transparent Fountain Pen in Classic Blue to A Better Desk at no charge for review purposes.

Conklin Mark Twain Crescent Fountain Pen Review

My pen buying habits have changed drastically over the years. As I find my favorite pens and stick with them, I feel less and less motivated to buy new ones. And my new purchases are influenced by the obscure and novel. Does it use a fill mechanism that is new to me? Does it have a cool/unique design? If the answers to these are no, I'm likely to pass.

The Conklin Mark Twain Crescent fountain pen ticks both of these boxes. I typically stick with F and EF nibs, but the Crescent provided a unique opportunity to add a stub nib to my collection.

Aside from the chessboard design of the black Conklin Mark Twain Crescent, the fill mechanism is the second most interesting thing about the pen. The crescent refers to the half circle protruding from the pen’s body. Depressing this half circle compresses an internal bladder. Dip the pen in your favorite ink, depress the crescent, release, and the bladder will fill.

But wouldn’t it be incredibly easy to accidentally press the crescent and spew ink everywhere? Yes, my friend, it would. Fortunately, the pen features a plastic locking ring that can be twisted to prevent the crescent from accidentally being depressed. In my experience, the lock has performed flawlessly.

Although the crescent filler mechanism gives the pen a cool vintage look, there are some practical limitations to this type of filler system. The ink capacity isn’t as great as I would have hoped, although I’ll give it a pass since stub nibs use loads of ink. If the ink sac does fail or leak, the pen has to be sent in to Conklin for replacement. I believe this is covered by Conklin’s lifetime warranty, but it’s an extra step and could be a hassle, especially for those who like to tinker with their pens.

Another downside of this closed system is that the pen is more difficult to clean. For traditional cartridge pens, I’d unscrew the nib section, toss the cartridge, use a rubber bulb to run cleaner through the nib, and call it a day. I can us a similar process for my other everyday carry, the Opus 88 Koloro, and run cleaner directly through the chamber. Since the Mark Twain Crescent can’t be disassembled, I have to painstakingly squeeze out the ink and pull fresh cleanser in and out until it runs clear.

But I have to be honest, I didn’t buy this pen for practicality—I bought it for the stunning vintage design and to add a bit more flare to my collection. I’ve been using this pen regularly since I purchased it, and it’s a joy to write with. The details are all present. The nib writes well and has a nice amount of flex, the subtle grooves in the checkerboard pattern give the pen a nice tactile feel, and every component of the pen seems to be designed intentionally from the functional filling system to the sturdy but generously flexible clip. It’s clear why these pens have been around for so long.

Note, this review covers the Conklin Mark Twain Crescent Exclusive, which was a limited run and is no longer available. If you’re looking for the closest thing, Conklin still offers its standard Conklin Mark Twain Crescent Fountain Pen!

Bonus Fountain Pen Factoid

“Founder Roy Conklin from Toledo, Ohio, is recognized for creating one of the world’s first self-filling fountain pens. Thanks to Conklin’s work, the design of fountain pens became more practical for public use when his patent for the first automatic filling mechanism went through in 1897. Named for its crescent moon-shaped metal that allows users to self-fill the ink, the Crescent Filler™ soon became a worldwide success. When the crescent is pressed, it collapses a sac, which is then filled when released.

In 1903, legendary American author Mark Twain expressed his praise, saying, “I prefer it to ten other fountain pens, because it carries its filler in its own stomach, and I cannot mislay even by art or intention.” Twain became the official spokesman for the Conklin Pen Company, and discovered yet another benefit to the Crescent Filler, stating, “Also, I prefer it because it is a profanity saver; it can’t roll off the desk.””

— Conklin | CAYGROUP https://caygroup.com/featured_item/conklin/

Opus 88 Koloro Demonstrator Fountain Pen Review

I usually have a good grip on my pen habit, but the Opus 88 Koloro Demonstrator was a complete impulse buy. I’ve always been fascinated by the Franklin Christoph Pocket 40, but I’ve never been able to find it in stock, and I wanted something with a bit more ink capacity at a more affordable price. I stumbled upon the Opus 88 on Pen Chalet, and it ticks many of the Franklin Christoph boxes but has a massive ink capacity and is significantly less expensive.

The Opus 88 Koloro is a big pen, so small hands beware. I have to admit that I’m not typically a fan of large pens, and the size did give me pause prior to ordering. I’m happy to say that I really enjoy the size of the pen. Yes, it’s large, but the material gives it a lighter feel. Since the pen doesn’t post, which may be a dealbreaker for some, it’s not absurdly long in the hand and still rests comfortably in the web of my fingers.

Demonstrators can get a little boring after a while, but the smokey finish on the threading of the Koloro is anything but bland. The pen uses an eyedropper fill system and takes on the characteristics of the ink inside. I filled mine with Diamine Red Dragon, and—well—take a look for yourself. It’s gorgeous. As a supernatural mystery writer, there’s something I find oddly appealing about writing with ink that looks like dried blood.

Speaking of eye-droppers, the Opus 88 Koloro is my first eyedropper pen. Instead of inserting a cartridge or ink converter, you fill the pen by unscrewing the ink reserve and dropping ink directly inside with the included eye dropper. This allows the pen to hold a massive amount of ink and doesn’t tarnish its beautiful appearance with ugly cartridges or converters. Not sure how an eye drops works? Take a look at the video below.

Piston fillers like the Lamy 2000 utilize a piston knob at the end of the barrel to pull ink into the ink chamber. Although the Opus 88 Koloro is an eyedropper pen, it has a piston too although the mechanism serves a unique purpose here. Instead of pulling ink into the pen’s ink chamber, the piston separates the ink chamber from the feed allowing the writer to control the flow of ink. This is especially useful when storing or carrying the pen, since the chamber can be closed off when not in use reducing the chance of leaks. The feed will hold enough ink for shorter writing sessions, but the chamber can be opened during longer sessions to ensure a steady flow of ink from the massive ink chamber.

The Opus 88 Koloro isn’t an on-the-go pocket pen—it’s far too large. The cap also takes ten or so twists to uncap, so good luck doing this with one hand. I primarily use the Koloro for outlining fiction projects on index cards and editing printed drafts, so it tends to live on my desk. The pen does fit comfortably in my Nock Co. Tallulah, still my preferred case of the moment, so there’s no need to worry about whether or not it’ll fit in your favorite case.

Although the Opus 88 Koloro Demonstrator was an impulse buy, it has quickly become one of my absolute favorite pens. The pen’s aesthetic is stunning and unique with its smoky finish, massive ink chamber, and classy black clip. Its filling and ink flow system are well designed and functional, and the pen is an overall joy to use. Although I don’t love larger pens, I make an exception for this one, and I’ve been carrying the pen with me daily since I purchased it months ago. If you’re looking for a unique pen design that’s still sturdy enough to serve as a a daily workhorse, I highly recommend taking a look at the Opus 88 Koloro.

Anvanda Bag Review

Ever wait for a product so long you felt it could never live up to your expectations? That’s how I felt when I finally received my Anvanda Bag in the mail, nearly a year after I supported the campaign through Kickstarter. My Timbuk2 messenger bag was showing its age, and I’d been lugging the poor guy around since I received it as a gift more than five years ago. It’s not that I’ve solely used the Timbuk2—no—I’ve tried plenty of other bags. But after constant disappointment with loose stitching, crappy zippers, and shoddy materials, I always came back to the Timbuk2. The Anvanda Bag seemed just too good to be true. Anvanda claims to deliver a high-quality bag for a reasonable price, which is what originally drew me to the project. So I waited and waited, and my bag finally came in the mail a few weeks ago. Was it worth the wait?

The Anvanda Bag is simply the best bag I’ve ever used as a daily carry. The bag itself is sturdy, well constructed, and made of high quality materials. This backpack messenger hybrid can be carried in almost any way imaginable. The bag has several strap clips and can be set up to be carried like a backpack, messenger back, or by the handle like a briefcase (although not sure why you’d do this). No matter what angle from which you approach it, it’s easy to grab the bag and get going.

Backpack mode

I purchased the smaller green version of the bag with a leather upgrade. Much to my delight, I unzipped the bag for the first time to discover the inside lining was bright orange. The brown/green exterior gives the bag a classic professorly look, but the orange interior livens things up a bit. Much like my favorite pen addict, orange is also my favorite color.

A laptop sleeve and two large zipped pockets on the interior (in backpack mode)

Pockets! This bag has just the right amount of pockets. I keep my Nock Co. Tallulah in a hidden pocket, easily accessible and tucked behind the front leather panel. The bag doesn’t go crazy with battery packs, bungee cords, robotic arms, or any of those other extras you see on a lot of the newfangled Kickstarter bags—and I prefer the bag for it. The Anvanda Bag does include a rain cover, which is easy to slide around the bag and tucks into a dedicated pocket at the bottom of the bag.

Sturdy snaps, clips, and zippers make this bag something special.

Nearly every component of the Avanda Bag feels custom. The zippers are sturdy, have handy keychain snaps, and are stamped with Anvanda’s logo. While many bag manufacturers source supplies from bargain basement suppliers, which becomes clear when zippers break within a week, Anvanda seems to have done their research, and the bag shines because of it.

My few issues with the Anvanda Bag are minuscule. The laptop sleave is accessible when unzipping the bag in backpack mode but not when unzipping from the messenger bag style zipper. This is a minor annoyance, and I’m not even sure how this could be manufactured in a reliable way without resulting in a flimsy insecure laptop sleave.

There’s no access to the laptop sleeve in messenger bag mode, but there is another secret pocket!

For the first time in five years, I’ve finally found a new bag that’s worthy of everyday carry status. I’ve been carrying the Anvanda Bag exclusively for the last few weeks and, dare I say, I like it more than my old Timbuk2. Capacity wise, I often find myself lugging around my 13-inch MacBook Pro, 12.9 iPad Pro, and a folder stuffed with paper, and the Anvanda doesn’t flinch. It’s just big enough without feeling bulky. There are very few products that live up to the hype of clever marketing techniques, but the Anvanda team has pulled off something special here. The bag is truly phenomenal and worthy of a glowing recommendation. If you’re looking for a durable bag that can be carried in several modes, the Anvanda may very well be worth a look. It’s currently available and shipping via Indiegogo.

Bonus detail shots!