Ile le petit Detroit, "Detroit Island," was our home for 11 summers. We and a dozen friends bought the better part of the island in 1970, and the Martys built a little home there and enjoyed it through 1981. After the death of my wife, cobuilder and mother of five cobuilders, we sold it for reasons of sentiment and practicality. I wrote books in that idyllic setting, using an old Underwood typewriter. When computers came along, it was impossible to use them on an island we had chosen because it did not have electricity (or running water and other amenities). Living the simple life was fine. But as anyone who uses a computer knows, the ability to type on an old typewriter without making endless errors quickly atrophies. At least mine did.