October 19, 2000
Watch This
by Joshua Carden
I’ve had a number of watches over the years. For the most part, they have been relatively cheap, digital, and plastic. Not necessarily Mickey Mouse, but close. Occasionally, I’d splurge and get one with an alarm or a timer. I’d get these watches for my birthday or Christmas (both in December), wear them for a year or so, and then the band would break. I’m hard on watches. I’ve lost or broken them while playing football, boating, rock-climbing, you name it. Fortunately, these accidents would happen close enough to the holidays that I could put it on my wish list. In fact, I think my mom began automatically starting her shopping list with “watch for Josh.”
I can’t help it: I like watches. I like to be on time. I realize that not everyone is concerned about this. In fact, there can be several opinions within the same family or circle of friends. My brother and I have joked for years about setting all the family clocks ahead fifteen minutes for the benefit of my mom. However, if she were here she would brilliantly counter this by pointing out that she uses that fifteen minutes throughout the day to pick up after us! But it is amazing how predictable family and friends become. Just last week, my immediate circle of friends met to play soccer at 2:00 p.m. Excuse me, I mean we PLANNED to meet at 2:00 p.m. The “on-time or early” crowd arrived at 1:55. As we waited for the others (notice how subtly I placed myself in the “on-time” category?), we began discussing this very subject. I theorized that I could plan an event, graph the response times of my friends and know how to strategically invite people so they’ll all show up at the same time (“Mom, you come at 1:45; John, you come at 1:57; Chris, you come at 1:30” etc.). As it turned out, we had more than enough time to finish the discussion because the person with the soccer ball didn’t show up until 2:30!
By the way, I must confess that this personal dedication to showing up on time or early is pretty much limited to events. I am a habitual procrastinator on other time deadlines, such as papers, homework, and that sort of thing. I’ve tried blaming this on the fact that my sundial doesn’t work at night, but my professors don’t usually buy that argument. Usually because (unless it’s around November) I’m wearing a watch on my left wrist.
The other cool thing about wearing a watch all the time is that you can check your tan level in public – quickly, easily, and legally. The summer I worked at a YMCA camp, I had the most incredible watch tan you’ve ever seen. My little campers would go up to other kids bragging about MY watch tan. (“Go ask him to take his watch off.”) I would comply and dead-pan deliver some story about being born with this horrible pale birthmark and searching for years for a watch the exact size to cover it up. I was a cool counselor. Of course, as usual, near the end of the summer, my watchband broke and I was left with the most incredible watch BURN you’ve ever seen. That wasn’t nearly as cool.
Fast forward to the present. I now have a nice watch. A very nice watch. I got it for Christmas (naturally) last year. Although it’s rather expensive, its sentimental value far outweighs its monetary value. The reason? It once belonged to my father, and before that it belonged to my grandfather. It’s one of a matching pair; in fact, the other is still worn by my grandmother. I received this watch by inheritance – a fairly traditional method of passing on an heirloom. However, the way it passed from my grandfather to my father is a little different. My grandfather was quite the businessman. He helped build a small ball-bearing business into a thriving and profitable enterprise. He sold it, with the help of my father, and comfortably retired. However his business sense remained strong. When my grandfather was hospitalized for cancer in the 1980s, my father went in one day for his usual visit. My grandfather, who knew he didn’t have much longer to live, called my dad to his bedside. As my father approached, my grandfather lifted his hand in blessing . . . and sold my dad his watch. A businessman to the end. I think it was a private, inside joke that they both enjoyed immensely. Now that the watch is mine, I guess I’ll be passing it along to one of my kids someday. I just hope I can hang on to this one long enough to . . . Whoops, time for class! . . . I can’t be late! . . .