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My father could type. So, in 1938, he became the camp clerk in one of the many Conservation Corps camps in northern Wisconsin ( I think Camp Smith Lake?). It was a highly coveted job. From this job, he met my mother.

I learned typing in High School. It became a very useful skill in my career.

My dad was born in 1920 in southern Illinois, and in 1937 he got to go on a field trip to the Windy City because he won a regional HS typing contest. He joined the Army Air Corps in 1940 and, because of his typing skill of 120 wpm on a manual typewriter, he was immediately assigned to the clerical dept. He insisted that kept him alive in WWII. He used to tell the story that in Okinawa when the officers were playing poker and ran out of money, they used him as the pot!

He was mortified that I majored in music in college. He had tried to get me to take typing all through HS instead of choir classes but I refused. Ironically, when I was about 30, married with kids, I stumbled upon the field of medical transcription as a way to WFH and avoid daycare. I then spent the next 26 yrs typing for a living. I had to spend one summer learning touch typing in order to bring my skills up to speed. I was kicking myself then for not listening to dear ole Dad 20 yrs earlier!