It's not every day that you get a phone call from Bill Cosby. It's even more rare to hear his voice on the other end of a telephone twice in one day.
The second time I heard Cosby's voice a couple of Mondays ago was in the afternoon when, much to my surprise, I answered the phone and heard, "This is Mr. Cosby. How long will it take for you to get your interviewer's hat on?"
He was calling to do an interview in advance of his appearance May 10, which is sponsored by Celebrity Attractions.
It didn't take me too to get ready for the interview, but long enough that I thought it necessary to make a bit of small talk.
I mentioned this was the second time I had heard his voice that day, and without a pause, Cosby said, "Fountain Pen Hospital."
Whenever one telephones the Fountain Pen Hospital in New York City and gets put on hold, what you hear is Bill Cosby extolling the virtues of this shop a few blocks from where the World Trade Center once stood.
The shop has been around since 1946, as has a national reputation among people who appreciate a good pen.
That is one thing – okay, maybe the only thing – that Bill Cosby and I have in common.
"So what did you buy?" Cosby asked – which started him off on the last pen he bought (a demonstrator, with a clear barrel so one can observe the inner workings). He has a taste for some of the more expensive items out there, such as a luxury brand from Italy called Montegrappa, but said, "Even though I can afford them, they're too rich for me."
That's a sentiment I understand well. Over the years I have collected – or amassed, or accumulated, or let pile up all over the place, depending upon whom one asks – something close to 120 fountain pens. My criterion has always been one of practicality: would I be willing to use this pen in my daily life? Because if it's just some thing to look at, just an "investment," then I don't want it. Some people purchase objects for those reasons, and if that's fine with them, it's fine with me. But pens are meant to be used – at my job, to write the daily notes to my wife, to work out a story or a bit of dialogue, to sketch out a plan for a mystery, whatever.
The oldest pen I have – which Cosby asked me about – is a 1942 Parker 51 which was an early inheritance from my father-in-law some years ago.
"Yeah," Cosby said. "Every so often it's fun to take out a pen that's older than I am, put some ink in it, and listen to it as it scratches across a sheet of paper."
To people who write, that sound can be the sweetest music ever heard.
