The Feathered Pen

The Heirloom

Perhaps the highlight of my father's funeral was his sister's remark about the feathered fountain pen he had been using ever since his younger years. The eulogy was mostly about how our father turned a part of our house into a barbershop. However, it was the story about the pen that continues to baffle my father's acquaintances up to this day.

According to the eulogy, our father received the pen from his father, who claimed he received it from a drunkard in the street during the 1950's. Our grandfather, during our childhood, would share his side of the story during the Christmas season as a way to keep the children preoccupied while waiting for noche buena. Members of the family and a few selected acqauintances knew about the pen, but only my father and his siblings claimed that, given the correct circumstances, it would stand the test of time and would still be able to write for the years to come.

The post-funeral gathering at our house was the usual - food, drinks, and gossip. When night came and most of the guests had left, my aunt called me to talk in private on the dinner table. On the table was the black feathered fountain pen along with crumpled sheets of paper. Tita Fina rejected the idea of keeping the family heirloom claiming that the pen was useless in her hands. She proved this by scribbling on a piece of paper to no avail. The pen appeared to have ran out of ink. She handed me the pen and paper, almost torn to shreds by her attempt at writing. After blowing the tip of the nib, I tried scribbling to check for the last drops of ink the pen might still have. I was able to draw circles. Tita Fina's tears streamed on her face as she smiled and gave me a hug.

The next day, I heard from my uncle, my father's elder brother, that both him and Tita Fina had been trying to write with the pen to no avail. When they were children, the siblings would sneak in their father's bedroom, take the pen, and take turns - only to find out that my father would be the only one capable of making scribbles out of it. According to Tito Miguel, my grandfather used the pen mainly for his journals. From what I knew, my father used the pen solely for keeping track of the barbershop's expenses.

The black feathered pen, most likely intended to resemble a quill, has been in my possession for almost a year now. I use it to keep track of the barbershop's expenses (now managed by my uncle), my own schedule, and for drafting the story which you are reading now.