Time. In the seconds it takes to type this sentence it has already moved on to this moment.
For better or worse, it persists.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Time scrapes by slowly while we sit at red lights, or when our kids are babies, or when we are placed on hold making a phone call (which includes listening to the same voice on repeat noting how much our call is 'valued' - each iteration more insincere - but I digress.)
Time accelerates too quickly when we spend it with our favorite loved ones, or when we're on vacation, or during my youthful summers when the streetlights came on sadly signaling the end of playing outside.
In the last several years, my December 31st "What I Learned..." blog posts have concluded with an observation about the passing of time because I am a woman of a certain age who is paying more attention.
When does time begin to become important in our lives? I can pinpoint exactly when this happened to me.
It was when I received a wristwatch as a gift from my parents for my First Communion.
No matter where I have stored jewelry on my bureau over the years, this watch has been included in my messy collection, usually buried far below the jewelry du jour. Even after many cleanouts, I cannot part with this cherished piece.
It is a stainless steel, chrome-finished Timex watch with a partial elastic wristband.
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| My 1962 Timex watch |
She handed the unfamiliar-shaped box to me with pride. Most childhood gifts were normally inside Lit Brothers department store boxes. My mom worked at their 69th Street location in Upper Darby for most of my school years and she 'shopped locally' using her 20% employee discount.
But this box was different. I turned the odd-shaped plastic case over once and creaked open the lid unveiling the doorway to maturity - a wristwatch.
It represented a portal to responsibility (at least in my second-grade brain.)
It was singular, personal access to where I was in the 24-hour day; a portable, modern sundial just for me.
It was my first piece of 'good' jewelry.
Everyone in my family wore wristwatches. I am the youngest so I longed to be part of the Timex 'club.' We wore Timex watches because their products were the middle-class timepieces of choice.
The brand's tagline in the 1950s and 1960s - "It takes a licking and keeps on ticking" - imbued confidence and a whiff of snazzy-ness to this lucky owner. (Timex brought back the famous slogan in the 1990s to moderate reviews.)
I lifted it from my old jewelry box and immediately wound the stem piece wondering if the watch still kept time. The second hand clicked forward right away in its familiar staccato motion.
I placed the wristwatch near my ear to double-check that it really worked and to hear that familiar ticking sound. So reassuring.
The next day it continued to display the correct time.
Who could predict that this trinket from six decades ago would perform so seamlessly? I think the Timex marketing folks doubled down on this idea of durability and permanence in all of their ads back in the day but did they really believe it?
They sure made me a believer.
This little timepiece was my lone grade school jewelry until I had my ears pierced at age 13. While other watches came into my future world, I can't recall any notable replacements until much later when the plastic, colorful Swatch watches upended the fine watch industry in the early eighties.
Swatches were welcomed wrist candy for a young demographic. Their bold colors and graphic designs to go with any outfit were seductive. I fell hard for them.
But my first Timex remained on my meager jewelry team. Swatch watches were eventually kicked off.
While I outgrew my Timex by my early teens, I continued wearing watches repairing/replacing them as needed. My wrist felt abandoned without one. I think I was in the minority.
Several years ago, a younger co-worker remarked upon noticing my watch, "It's cute that you still wear a watch!"
Cute? It's essential! (or so I believed.)
Today, we are in an era where our phones have become the tellers of time.
My current non-Timex watch has taken a licking and has stopped ticking. I am hoping it is a battery issue. However, should it be a mechanical problem I may, for the first time ever, succumb to using my phone as my lone timepiece.
Sigh.
This concession will not dim my devotion to my little Timex beauty. She will remain with my declining collection of jewelry. I cannot part with her.
She defined time eloquently.
She elevated me into a responsible child.
She made my little girl self feel fancy.
And she made me a lifelong watch wearer.
I can't say if the Timex company knew that its durable timepieces were also carving equally lasting memories about time.
I can say the imprint was made on this girl.
My first wristwatch memory will always keep on ticking.
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| My current & not-so-current watches |
