by Pedro Blas González (December 2025)
“I can’t believe its Christmas time again, dear,” Margaret said. She sat next to Tarpley on the barstool behind the shop counter. “Ah,” she sighed and looked at her husband.
“Yes. Christmas once again. Renewal. How many Christmases have we spent together, Margaret?”
“Well, hmm … Let’s see. We met when we were twenty-four and now we’re seventy-three. Do the math, my industrial designer husband.”
“Forty-nine. The answer is forty-nine years.”
“You know, come to think of it, we’ve never had a Christmas apart. That first Christmas dinner, when you came to my parent’s home, was our first,” Margaret reminded Tarpley.
“That’s a long time ago. That was truly another life. That’s what it was, another life,” Tarpley said, “It’s the only way I can think of it.”
Margaret wondered, “It may have been another life, but is it the same world?
“Ah … Good question … The failure of memory. People who should remind us about the past fail us. Instead, we create false narratives and fictional stories that destroy historical accuracy, until the past is completely erased. That’s why some people believe that today people and things are the same as they have always been. Nothing could be further from the truth…Anyhow…”
***
The bells hanging from the front door of the shop sounded. The door opened slowly, making a light creaking sound. Tarpley and Margaret looked intently, but all they could see was a leg holding the door open. Then came a voice, “Hello, my fellow typewriter enthusiasts,” the voice said.
“Well, well. Hello Maria,” Margaret said, walking over to the door. “Hold on, let me help you.”
Their friend Maria, the school teacher, was trying to hold the door open with her left leg while carrying a large typewriter. Margaret held the door open for her.
Walking into the shop, Maria said, “Check out this beauty, Tarpley. Look at what I found.”
“Lovely,” Margaret agreed.
Tarpley walked from behind the counter. “Wow, now this is a find, an Underwood Golden Touch. Where in the world did you get it?” He asked, dazzled by the machine Maria was holding.
Maria placed the typewriter on the counter and let out a breath, “Heavy.”
“It’s wonderful,” Maria. So beautiful. Tarpley is going to go gaga over this one,” Margaret said.
“Don’t mind if I do, ladies. I think I’m already gaga.”
“I’ll be back in a minute. I have to get something from the car,” Maria said.
While Maria was out, Tarpley began to examine the Underwood. “Margaret, what a beautiful piece of industrial engineering.”
“That, it is, Tarpley,” Margaret added, enjoying how much pleasure Tarpley was taking from the typewriter.
“Office machines for the ages … these lovely typewriters were made to take a beating … used and abused, until the new models came into the market. Office people loved the solidity of these typewriters. They feel like you are actually creating something of importance … something of lasting substance.
Maria returned from her car. She was holding a bag.
“I made us some focaccia bread and a little olive oil and dried tomato spread. Eat up, my friends.”
“Oh Maria, you’re too special,” Margaret said.
“Margaret, haven’t I always told you that making friends with the best people is a lost art.”
“Thank you, Tarpley. That’s the best compliment I’ve had all year. It’s Christmas time, let’s eat and enjoy. My husband planned to come with me but had to take our son to an impromptu basketball practice that the coach came up with last minute. We’ll come by next week and say hello. I’ll bring my son. You haven’t met him.”
“This is very kind of you,” Maria, Tarpley said, referring to the food.
“I’m glad you like it.”
“Very tasty,” Margaret added.
“Tell me … Where did you find this machine?” Tarpley asked.
“My husband and I were at the Chelsea Flee Market and saw it. Immediately, I went to check it out and realized it was way too good to pass over.”
“It’s in really fine shape,” Tarpley said, inspecting the machine.
“Maria, he’s got us all trained, “Margaret added, “I see typewriters in my breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I look into my bowl of soup and, lo and behold, there is a typewriter in there?”
“That’s love for you dear. That’s all it is, Margaret. Besides some typewriters are too big to fit in your soup bowl,” Tarpley joked.
“My husband and I bought it for you Tarpley. We want you to have it. We know you will love it. We appreciate anyone who resuscitates and brings back to utility objects that are condemned for destruction. People like you keep us all from becoming throwaways,” Maria waxed poetically.”
“Oh Maria, that’s so nice of you. Tarpley you are a lucky man who has special friends lugging heavy typewriters all over Manhattan for you,” Margaret said.
“I know. I’m blessed.”
The three of them ate Maria’s focaccia and spread. They discussed children and what Christmas means to them.
“Incidentally Maria,” Margaret said, next week we are going to have our annual little get together, a Christmas party that we have here every year. We invite several friends and neighbors. It’s our way of celebrating the spirit of Christmas, the renewal of life that Christmas represents. Bring your husband and son.”
“We will be here. I’m already looking forward to it.”
***
After Maria left, Margaret and Tarpley continued going about their daily chores. Tarpley began working on an Underwood 990 portable typewriter that a customer was going to pick up in the afternoon. Margaret began to decorate the shop with Christmas ornaments. The first thing she took out of a closet was a two foot by one foot wooden manger that she displayed every year for the Christmas party. She placed the manger at the center of a table that displays several typewriters.
A week later, December 17, a blustery winter day that threatened to snow, the guests began to arrive. Mrs. Witherspoon, an elderly neighbor who lives in the building next to Tarpley and Margaret, arrived first.
“Great to see you Josephine,” Margaret greeted her.
“Thank you for having me again. I don’t get to see you as often as I used to. I do not walk as much as before. The shop looks very pretty, Margaret,” Mrs. Witherspoon said.
“Thank you, dear. Here, sit,” Margaret offered, motioning to chairs that she and Tarpley had set up around the shop. “Have some food,” Margaret offered Mrs. Witherspoon.
Tarpley removed the typewriters that he kept on the table at the center of the shop. In their place, Margaret placed food next to the manger.
The bells hanging from the front door rang. Maria entered, followed by her son and husband. “Hello everyone,” she said, her face aglow with good cheer.
“I want you to meet my husband Miguel and our son Alejandro,” she said to everyone present.
‘Welcome. We’re so happy to meet you. We’ve heard much about you. Maria always mentions her family,” Margaret said, hugging Maria’s husband and son.”
“Maria and I discuss typewriters and literature every time we meet,” Tarpley said to her family. “You are a basketball player I am told,” Tarpley said to Maria’s son, Alejandro.
“Yes sir. I play basketball in the winter,” the young man responded.
“Call me Tarpley … I am just Tarpley to everyone that is invited here today.”
“This is a fantastic place Mr. Tarpley. I’ve never seen so many typewriters, only the two that mother keeps at home,” Alejandro said.
“Thank you. Look around and feel free to try out the machines.”
“You have a very nice shop, Tarpley,” Miguel added.
“We’ve been here for a long time… way back, when people actually used typewriters daily. We enjoy what we do,” Tarpley said.
Margaret introduced Maria’s family to Mrs. Witherspoon, who was sitting in a chair drinking a ginger ale.
Several minutes passed and the bells on the front door rang again. Alfredo entered the shop. “Ho Ho Ho,” he said. He held a bottle of red wine in his left hand. He began to take off his winter coat, revealing a Hawaiian shirt with Santa Claus surfing on a surfboard.
“Cold today,” Alfredo said. He wore a stocking cap with a white pom pom on the end. Alfredo’s wife followed him into the shop. She was shaking her head.
“Look who just came in,” Tarpley said, “It’s Mr. Santa Claus cat. Hello Alfredo … Ellen.”
“Tarpley, he’s been planning his clichéd wardrobe for almost two weeks,” Ellen said.
“Welcome to everyone,” Margaret said and began to introduce the guests to each other. “We are truly happy to share another Christmas with our good friends and celebrate God’s presence among us.”
Tarpley showed Miguel and Alejandro the different typewriters he had in the shop. Maria, Margaret and Mrs. Witherspoon sat next to each other, conversing.
“Tarpley knows typewriters like doctors know parts of the body,” Alfredo said to Miguel and Alejandro. The man is a mechanical genius. Most importantly, he loves to bring mechanical objects back into usefulness.”
“This man,” Tarpley said, putting his right arm around Alfredo’s shoulder, he has been a friend of mine for almost fifty years. He is joyful Alfredo… a genuine cat and saxophone player. With the exception of the Christmas hat he is wearing today, you rarely see him without his New York Mets cap on his head. He is the best Mets fan.”
“Sure am. I still lament the day they moved out West to that city. What’s it called…?”
“Yeah. That one,” Tarpley joked.
“The bells on the front door sounded again. Everyone’s attention turned to the door. A woman came in followed by a young boy. It was Matthew, a heavy-set boy and his mother, Stephanie, Tarpley’s neighbors from several buildings down the block.
“Mr. Greatstreet,” the boy said, running up to Tarpley.
“Matthew. How are you, my boy?”
“Hello everyone,” Stephanie, Matthew’s mother said, introducing herself and the boy.
“Mr. Greatstreet I haven’t seen you for a long time,” the boy said.
The boy’s mother looked at Tarpley, smiled and shook her head. “Matthew its Mr. Greathouse, not Greatstreet,” she said to the boy.
“I know. That’s what I said. Mother, I saw Mr. Greatstreet last time at school. Remember, Mr. Greatstreet?”
“Of course I remember. You came with your class to my booth on career day.”
“Oh wow. Look, mother it’s Mr. Fernandez, a teacher at my school,” Matthew said.
“Hello Matthew,” Maria said to the boy. “How is school going?” she asked.
“Good. School is good. I think the lunch is better than ever.”
“Oh yes. Lunch is pretty good,” Maria responded.
“Mr. Greatstreet you have a lot of beautiful typewriters. You have more than ever,” Matthew said.
“Nah … not many more… about the same number as when you last came here with your mother.”
Matthew was introduced to Alejandro, the only other child at the party.
These are beautiful typewriters, aren’t they?” Matthew asked Alejandro.
“Really beautiful,” Alejandro responded.
“Speaking about lunch and the school cafeteria, Matthew there is some food there on the table,” Tarpley offered.
“Oh wow. You have cake. I love cake.”
“I think I will serve him,” Matthew’s mother said to Tarpley and winked.
Alfredo was telling Miguel and Alejandro stories of the Mets, the team’s ups and down throughout the years. Matthew came up to Alfredo and joined the conversation.
“I like the Mets. I’ve gone to their games several times. It’s a lot of fun.”
“And they have good food at the stadium,” Alfredo added.
“Ah yeah. Lots of good food,” Matthew agreed.
After several minutes of talking and eating, the guests were called to attention, as Margaret had an announcement to make. Only the Christmas music that Margaret was playing in the background could be heard.
“I want to share something special with you, our friends. A little creation of Tarpley’s that he is very proud of,” Margaret said. Maria nodded her head, anticipating the creation Margaret was about to show them.
She brought out a box from under the counter and placed it on the countertop. She then brought out an object that was covered in a red cloth.
“I have something here that Tarpley created and that he is very proud of,”
Margaret told the guests.
Tarpley nodded.
“Do you want to unveil it, Tarpley?” Margaret asked.
“No. You go ahead and do it.”
Margaret unveiled Tarpley’s mechanical cat to several uh’s and ah’s from the guest.
Matthew said: “Wow. Mr. Greatstreet, that cat is so cool.”
“This is Tarpley’s mechanical cat, Toledo. Toledo has now become Tarpley’s Christmas cat,” she said, placing a tiny stocking cap on the cat’s head.”
“Tarpley, did you make the cap too?” Alfredo joked, “it looks like mine.”
“No. I made that,” Margaret laughed, “you will notice how the pompom is not white but silver to match the metal.”
***
The overcast sky gave way to low clouds that looked like they would soon burst. Snow was in the air. Tarpley went to the window and looked out. He looked up at the sky and then took in the stillness of the street and sidewalks. Taking a few moments away from the party, he thought about the Christmases that he and Margaret spent together before their two sons were born, and later when the children filled the house with excitement and expectation during Christmas morning. A neighbor walked by on the near sidewalk and waved. Tarpley remembered attending the midnight Catholic mass with Margaret and the children.
“Mr. Greatstreet, what are you looking at?” Tarpley heard Matthew say from behind him.
“Hey Matthew. I’m looking at the sky. I think we’re going to have snow soon.”
“Oh yeah? I like snow. It makes everything look clean.”
“That’s a good observation, Matthew. Snow covers the world with brightness and makes everything look clean. Christmas makes the world brighter and new once again. I remember when my two sons were your age.”
“Thank you for the party, Mr. Greatstreet. You have nice typewriters and good food.”
“You’re welcome, Matthew,” we are happy you and your mother came. We like to celebrate Christmas with family and friends.”
Upon Alfredo’s request, Margaret walked up to the counter and began to windup the mechanical cat.
“Look at it go. Skipping along the counter like melted butter on a breakfast biscuit,” Alfredo said. Margaret began to laugh.
Seeing that the adults were laughing, Matthew also broke out into laughter.
“Matthew, look at Tarpley’s mechanical Christmas cat go. He just glides along,” Alfredo said.
“Yeah. It’s a really pretty looking cat. He moves like butter on a plate,” Matthew said, making Alfredo laugh.
Everyone ate and listened to Christmas music. After a few minutes, Margaret told the invited guest the joy that Christmas represents for her, Tarpley, and their two adult sons. Turning to the manger, she told them that she bought it for the house upon the birth of their first son.
“When the boys were very little, around four and two, our oldest son started bringing little blades of grass that he got from the grassy areas in front of the building and placed the grass on the manger for the animals. He said the animals needed food. After a while, our younger son picked up on this and he also began to bring grass to the manger. It got really funny, as both of them tried to outdo each other by placing handfuls of grass in the manger.”
Maria asked Margaret about her two sons.
“As a matter of fact, both of them and their families are coming to be with us for Christmas,” she said, “we’re really looking forward to that. We’re going to attend the Midnight Mass together again.”
“That’s wonderful. I have not seen them in a while,” Alfredo said.
“Now I want to say something. Margaret and I have two presents for our two young men guests,” Tarpley said.
He walked to the counter and brought out a large, flat box that was gift wrapped and placed it on the counter. He repeated the action and brought out another box, this one a little smaller than the first one. It was also wrapped in Christmas wrapping paper.
“Ok, Matthew, since you are younger you will go first.” Walking up to Matthew who sat on a chair next to his mother, Tarpley handed the boy a large box, as Matthew handed his mother his plate of food.
“This is for me, Mr. Greatstreet?” Matthew asked. The boy’s mother smiled and shook her head.
“Absolutely. It is a gift from Margaret and I. We hope you will like and enjoy it for many years to come.”
Matthew began to rip the wrapping paper, taking momentary glances at his mother in approval. Pushing the wrapping paper aside, Matthew was left with a beige carrying case that came with two small keys, one which was inserted into the handle. The boy looked up at Tarpley.
“Turn the key and open it,” Tarpley encouraged him.
Matthew opened the carrying case, slowly, bringing the lid to a vertical position.
“Wow. Wow. Mr. Greatstreet, this is a beautiful typewriter. So shiny, black and white. Wow. Thank you,” Matthew said.
“Merry Christmas, Matthew. It is a Silver Reed 813 typewriter. It was made in Japan. Margaret and I can teach you how to type.
“Japan? Wow. Mr. Greatstreet I am going to start typing cat stories, just like you.” The guest began to laugh.
Margaret said, “Ah, Tarpley in the making.”
“I will love to see your stories,” Tarpley said to Matthew.
Then, turning to Maria’s son, Alejandro, Tarpley said: “Margaret and I have a gift for you.” Tarpley walked to the counter and picked up a slightly bigger flat box and handed it to the older of the two boys.
“Thank you, Mr. Tarpley,” the boy said, seemingly embarrassed by the attention.
Alejandro tore off the wrapping paper slowly and stared at a black carrying case, only this one did not have keys, only bottoms. Upon opening the case, Alejandro took out a black portable typewriter, which he placed on top of the now closed case.
“Thank you, Mr. Tarpley. This is a beautiful typewriter.”
“This one is also a Silver Reed that was made in Japan. It is a 750 model. I have one just like it. I think you boys will get much enjoyment from these machines.” Alejandro shook Tarpley’s hand.
“I wish I got a beautiful typewriter like those when I was younger,” Alfredo said.
“That’s because you didn’t know Tarpley then, Alfredo,” Margaret joked.
Tarpley walked to the counter and got two sheets of paper from a shelf under the counter. He gave each boy a sheet and told them to explore their typewriters. He then walked to the window behind the counter and looked out. It had begun to snow. A light covering of snow was already accumulating on the ground and vehicles. He nodded with approval.
Renewal, Tarpley thought.
“Look, everyone. It is snowing,” Tarpley said to the guests. Everyone came to the window, except Matthew, who remained busy typing on his typewriter.
Mr. Witherspoon was the first guest to leave. She said she didn’t want to walk on a snowy sidewalk. A few minutes later, Matthew and his mother came up to Tarpley and Margaret to thank them for the gift.
“Thank you for a real wonderful time and for Matthew’s gift. That is very kind of you,” Matthew’s mother said to Margaret and Tarpley. She hugged both.
“Mr. Greatstreet, thank you for the typewriter. This is my best Christmas gift ever,” the boy said, also hugging Tarpley.
Mathew held the typewriter case in his right hand like a proud, young businessman holds a briefcase. When he reached the door he looked out and saw the snow. Turning around, he said, “Look, Mr. Greatstreet. It’s snowing! The world is clean again.”
“Yes, it is,” Tarpley said, giving Matthew a thumbs up.
“Tarpley, my friend, you and Margaret sure know how to throw a party and make people happy. The two boys were beaming with joy with their typewriters,”
Alfredo said, putting on his coat. Alfredo’s wife hugged Margaret and Tarpley.
The last guests to leave were Maria, her husband and son. Alejandro thanked Tarpley again for his gift. He told Tarpley that the typewriter was one of the best gifts he had ever received. Maria embraced Margaret and Tarpley. She told them that she would be visiting her family in Spain during Christmas. “I will see you both in the first days of the New Year. I promise.”
Maria’s husband shook Tarpley’s hand and told him that he was sure that Alejandro’s typewriter would make a lasting impression on his son.
***
“Well, dear, there goes one more Christmas party at Greathouse Machines,” Margaret said to Tarpley and hugged him.
“I couldn’t have done it without you, Margaret.”
“Remember that our sons say we’re two of a kind. Look at the snow, dear. It’s really coming down. Let’s lock up and go home, before I lose my ridiculous typewriter husband in the snow.”
***
That night Tarpley and Margaret sat in the living room after dinner and called their two sons on the telephone. They spoke with their grandchildren and told them they looked forward to seeing them the following week.
‘I am going to bed, dear. That was a full day we had,” Margaret said to Tarpley.
“I know. I’m coming soon.”
Tarpley went to the kitchen table, where Margaret had placed the mechanical Christmas cat. He took the cat with him to a back room of the house, where he kept a typewriter.
It was still snowing.
Looking out the window, Tarpley saw that the street was covered with snow, so were vehicles and other structures.
The world looked clean … innocence … what a gift innocence is, Tarpley thought.
He then placed a sheet of paper in his typewriter and looked at his mechanical Christmas cat. Your first Christmas, my boy. Though, I imagine I’ve known you for a long time, Tarpley thought.
He began to type:
Christmas makes the world clean. .. A clean slate once again. A second chance for those who seek redemption. Renewal of man’s spiritual life. How’s that for hope, my boy?
Tarpley stopped typing and looked at his mechanical Christmas cat. He wound up the cat and watched it glide effortlessly across his small table.
He continued typing:
You shine on, my boy. Brighten up the world, like snow does to a dull pavement. The center of attention-- you-- my animated creation. You’ve come to us like a cat in shining armor. What a joy. A little being of metal and gears, how lovely you are to contemplate. What inner peace you bring to me-- my Christmas cat.
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Pedro Blas González is Professor of Philosophy in Florida. He earned his doctoral degree in Philosophy at DePaul University in 1995. Dr. González has published extensively on leading Spanish philosophers, such as Ortega y Gasset and Unamuno. His books have included Unamuno: A Lyrical Essay, Ortega’s ‘Revolt of the Masses’ and the Triumph of the New Man, Fragments: Essays in Subjectivity, Individuality and Autonomy and Human Existence as Radical Reality: Ortega’s Philosophy of Subjectivity. He also published a translation and introduction of José Ortega y Gasset’s last work to appear in English, “Medio siglo de Filosofia” (1951) in Philosophy Today Vol. 42 Issue 2 (Summer 1998). His most recent book is Philosophical Perspective on Cinema.
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