Jan. 13: "Broken''

In my Introduction to Public Speaking class, our instructor gave us the low-down on the first speech we will have to make. Her instructions were to bring with us some object that is relevant to our lives and use it to tell the rest of the class – our audience – something about ourselves.

I was up at 6 this morning and since I didn’t have class until 11, I used some of that time to prepare the speech I will present to the class next Tuesday. Because I am prone to fiddle with finished things, I suspect the speech will go through some alterations between now and then. But I thought I would give you, my faithful blog readers, a sneak peek at the speech in its present form.

It is as follows:

Good morning!

This is my printer. More specifically, it is my Hewlitt-Packard Model 4315 Ink Jet printer.

From where you sit, I doubt you would notice anything remarkable about this printer and even upon close inspection, you would discover no obvious flaw. There are no dings or scratches; no missing parts. You would judge that while it’s not the latest model, neither is it a relic. It’s just a printer, ordinary in every discernable way.

But I am here to tell you that it is worthless, because a few years ago something happened to it and it just stopped working.

When I connected it to my computer that day, everything seemed normal. I heard the whir of ink cartridges as they moved into position, heard the clicking of the gears on cylinder that bring a piece of paper into position and even heard the hiss of the ink jets applying the letters to the page.

But nothing came out of the other end, not even a blank page.

It just doesn’t work anymore.

As you can see, it looks fine. But something deep inside, something hidden from view, is broken. And so it doesn’t work.

I once wrote a story about a man who had a knack for fashioning broken things into useful, even clever, new things. It seemed he could make a planter or a lamp or even a piece of furniture out of just about anything.

But I don’t think even he would think about turning a broken printer into something that could serve another purpose. It’s of no use and has no value. It’s just clutter.

Now, if this were your printer, I know just what you would do. You wouldn't bother to have it fixed. It isn't worth fixing. Printers aren't expensive, so it would make more sense to simply buy a new one, the latest model.

So without a moment's hesitation, you would just toss this printer into the trash bin and be done with it.

Because to all the world, it is a worthless thing.

But somehow I can’t bring myself to throw it away, for reasons I am sure will seem silly to you.

First, it’s my printer. It worked faithfully for a number of years. And even in its broken state, when I listen to the printer – the various whirs and clicks and hisses – I almost imagine it is saying, “Hey, I’m trying. I really am. So, please, don’t give up on me.’’

And so I keep it. From time to time, I hook it up and hope that somehow when the whirs and clicks and hisses have ended, a printed page will, by some miraculous means, slide out the other end. It never does, of course.

I guess for most of us, there is a deeply ingrained belief that when things break down, all that is required is to keep fighting; that if you work through it and persevere that - through strength of will and diligence- things will work out.

That’s a good attitude to have, of course, but things don’t always turn out that way.

And yet there is something almost noble about fighting a good fight in a lost battle, I think.

This printer whirs and clicks and hisses and I hear it saying “I am going down, it is true. But I am going down swinging, at least.’’

And that is what I tell myself these days.