The Joyful Symphony, in the Key of Qwerty Tom Hanks, I am tapping out a kiss to you, albeit a digital one - X - for taking me back so vividly to the old typewriters of my past, and to the immense satisfaction of banging away on them ("I Am TOM. Hear That?," Sunday Review, Aug. 4). The fingers remember it all, and the ears, the attendant clamor. It was deliciously sensory. Nowadays I love my computer. But along the way in this brilliant evolution, many of our common physical tools have faded from our grasp, replaced by the abstract and the virtual. We type on flat, featureless, quiet keys or on icons on glass screens; cook on a drawing of a burner; read time on a motionless number display; open, close and start things without keys; turn the pages of our book electronically. Few among us wish to go backward. But the beautiful or practical objects of the past that we handled and interacted with in an active way do not disappear without a real sense of loss. Tom Hanks's essay about the glories of typewriters and typing brought back memories of learning how to type in a ninth-grade class at Cabrillo Junior High School in Ventura, Calif., many decades ago. Mastering the keyboard, achieving 70 and then 80 and more words per minute brought a real sense of achievement. Mr. Hanks didn't mention the satisfying "cling!" at the end of each line that marked the completion of another line of type in an essay or letter. One note of surprise: Mr. Hanks types thank-you notes? I was taught to hand write those. Dear (Chalk click clack clack) Tom Hanks (Thick fitt fitt Clack clack fitt fitt click): (tick) You've (thick thick thick fitt thick thick) got (clack clack clack) mail! thick clack click click CLANG