.
It's called a "typewriter."
.
Until a few days ago I had no idea the two things I'm about to share happened. Sometimes I think Las Vegas might as well be on another planet, light-years away from Earth. You would think with the benefit of the Internet and my online subscriptions to The Huffington Post, The Week and The Daily Beast, pertinent news wouldn't slip by me—but apparently it often does.
Here's what I did know: Back in 1973 a school in Drake, North Dakota burned copies of Kurt Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse-Five in the school's furnace. Pissed off, Vonnegut respectfully wrote a letter to school board chairman Charles McCarthy, and you can read that letter here.
In the nearly forty years following the conflagration of the novel, more instances of schools banning Vonnegut's books have sporadically surfaced, but with the dawn of the new millennium—I thought (hoped?) society had left this type of unjust censorship behind.
As I often am though, I was wrong.
Here's what I didn't know: First, in August of last year, Missouri's Republic High School banned Slaughterhouse-Five, citing the novel teaches "principles contrary to Biblical morality and truth." I had no idea this asinine travesty had recently happened—again.
Second, the Kurt Vonnegut Memorial Library did a beautiful thing. Thanks to an anonymous donor, all 150 students at Republic High School were given the opportunity to request a copy of Vonnegut's best selling anti-war novel, and at no charge—this being the other thing that somehow slipped by me—not the free books for the students, but the fact there's a Kurt Vonnegut Memorial Library.
Nestled in the historic Emelie Building in the author's hometown of Indianapolis, the Kurt Vonnegut Memorial Library opened in November of 2010. On display is his typewriter where visitors can type short messages to later be tweeted around the world. A stack of rejection letters are on display, along with an unopened pack of his Pall Mall cigarettes. Many of his drawings and artwork adorn the walls and there's a replica of his writing studio. Of course all his books are available—as are other things all Vonnegut. The library has monthly events and workshops and since it's non-profit, donations are gladly accepted. Depending on the amount, your donation can get you anything from a bumper sticker to an invitation to his birthday celebration every November 11th.
Morley Safer of 60 Minutes introduces KVML
.
I've written plenty about Kurt Vonnegut in the past. It's no secret I think of the man as a surrogate father because of the gigantic generation gap between myself and my own Father. You see, my Dad was much older than most fathers of kids my age, and I think this made him feel awkward at times. I wish he'd written down the things he didn't want to talk to me about—things for me to read later—but he didn't (because Dad wasn't much of a writer) so I guess you can say Kurt Vonnegut filled-in the empty spaces in my brain.
I love Kurt like he's one of my own—and I don't even have any kids. Besides the cigarettes, alcohol and humanist cynicism, we're both also connected by the same Latin words written on his pack of unfiltered Pall Malls and on my family's Irish crest—In Hoc Signo Vinces—by the sign of the cross, we shall conquer. Not that it means anything.
For me, Kurt is part father, part brother, part best friend. I think of him often.
So now I'm sitting here trying to figure out how and when I can get to Indianapolis because there's a birthday party there that's not to be missed.
FiN.
