I first heard about the existence of fountain pen lovers gatherings from Marc Pelletier, of Castine, Maine, a family friend whom I met recently on a trip to Maine. He had written my daughter s name in a beautiful, flowing hand with what he called his "everyday writer" an instrument that was anything but ordinary. It was a 1925 black-and-pearl-celluloid pen with a flexible nib, the part that touches the paper. Pelletier also mentioned that I was lucky to live in D.C., because the Washington DC Fountain Pen Supershow was held nearby.