On my travels, I acquired a new watch. My grandmother gave it to me. It was my grandfather’s watch.
I know this seems like the sort of thing that should tug at a young man’s heartstrings, but it really wasn’t any big deal. Me: “Hey, this watch still works”. Grandma: “You want it?”. No symbolic passing-down gestures, no wistful tales of how he wore that watch through the Korean War and countless several-alarm fires in the hamlets surrounding Burlington. None of that.
My co-workers notice the smallest changes in my wardrobe (a statement of A- how desperate these kind souls are to find something to talk with me about and B- how rarely I shop for clothes), and I am concerned someone will notice the watch. “It was my grandfather’s” is sure to give the impression that I have ponderous and beautiful feelings regarding this watch, and when it turns out I don’t have them, the legend of my jerkitude will simply expand to include this new anecdote.
Yet, every time I wind it and hear its ticking, I think about my grandfather listening to the exact same thing.
4 replies on “As Close As I Get”
Touching post…the only thing that would have made it better would be if Christopher Walken had given you the watch
Is that the grandfather from the “no standing” picture?
Hey, you didn’t call when you were in town. I waited by the phone for days.
eric – Don’t think I didn’t think about that. Eww…
garvey – sure is.
john – I know it — sorry dude. I was in town for about twelve hours total, and was asleep for most of it.