But what does it mean?

A note on names, memories, and how you can literally sell anything on the internet.

I was searching for a cover photo and discovered people are selling hotel pens, that you get for free, on the internet. So really this is a story about all the ways I’m leaving money on the table.

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My dad traveled for most of my childhood. There were plenty of times where he brought back presents from memorable places. He also brought back pens. Always. From every hotel he stayed at.

Despite moving more times than I care to remember, I’ve managed to keep every one that still has ink. Nowadays, I’m adding my own to the collection. Restaurant pens sneak in. Unfortunately, so do pens from offices and doctors, but “Hotel, restaurant, retail, and other pens” just doesn’t quite have the same ring to it.

I do not buy pens. I cannot contribute to pen discourse. When people tell me they love Muji pens, I can only stare. If you are a pen connoisseur thinking, “Megan, you haven’t experienced what it’s like to write with a really good pen!” I would tell you I simply do not care.

I will, however, talk about the betrayal of a hotel leaving mini pencils in the room. I can tell you that once upon a time hotel pens were metal, had good weight, and smoothly twisted to open. If we were to document the decline of America through small, seemingly inconsequential details, I would point to the pens.

I didn’t sell these and put the earnings into a 401K and that’s why I’ll never be able to retire.

At current count, I have four pens in my travel backpack, six in my work bag, two in my sling bag, three in my purse, one in my gym bag, two in my car, two in my nightstand, four vases stuffed full around my home, one gallon ziplock in a cabinet, two small boxes full in the closet, and an undisclosed number of stray pens scattered in between. I am staring at two on my coffee table. I do not know what pile they came from. A man once brought a pen back from his trip and gave it to me while also breaking up with me. Should the world run out of ink, I will rule the written word.

This is the part where I tell you this Substack will have nothing to do with hotel pens. Which is maybe not true. Some of these pens have stories. You will probably hear one.

What this Substack will have everything to do with is feelings. It is about people, memories, grief, and belonging. How we imprint onto each other’s lives. How really simple things can take up the biggest places in our hearts. Every other week I’ll send a short essay. In between, I’ll send other things. Poems, probably. Not ones I’ve written. Not yet.

Welcome to Hotel Pens. I’m so glad you’re here.

Now, have a poem.

I have to tell you 
by Dorothea Grossman

I have to tell you, 
there are times when
the sun strikes me
like a gong, 
and I remember everything, 
even your ears.