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.
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4 comments:
Touching post...the only thing that would have made it better would be if Christopher Walken had given you the watch
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RKuDYbnXBJQ
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.
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