THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Tuesday, October 18, 1994 TAG: 9410180072
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY MATTHEW BOWERS, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: Medium: 90 lines
OUR FAMILY isn't a very sentimental bunch.
Maybe that comes from all of us living in the same town. We saw each other all the time, from middle-of-the-week shopping to gatherings on holidays to every Sunday before or after church at my grandparents' house a short block down the street.
So I was pleased and more than a little surprised when, after my grandfather died in 1978, my grandmother gave me his wrist-watch.
You see, he was a jeweler and watchmaker. His timepiece was a little more important to him than to the average guy. The man knew and appreciated fine watches, like a mechanic knows and appreciates fine cars. And this was a good watch. And an expensive one, I found out later - it probably cost him $100 when he bought it back in 1964. It was one of the first with a battery.
A simple, gold-cased watch. Big, plain numbers. An old man's watch.
The problem is, almost from the beginning, it didn't keep time as well as the $14 Timex I usually wear. I wore it some, it started to falter, I set it aside. For years. Always planning, of course, to get it to a shop to see if it was fixable. I didn't want to just stick it in a drawer if I didn't have to.
A few years ago, I finally got it to a repairman. This is a good watch, he said. Sure it can be fixed. But the parts are hard to come by. Twenty-five years old, you know. New watches, all battery-run quartz jobs, are cheaper and more reliable.
Yes, I knew that. But maybe a little investment would get it running. So I paid something like $100 to get it fixed.
That was good for a couple of years. Then it stopped again. Another repair shop. More gushing over this great old watch. Another $100 in repairs. But it soon started running slow, and I again set it aside and went back to my Timex until I got around to taking it back.
Now the shop wants $69 more. Overhauling and cleaning. It's something these old watches need every now and then, they said. Apparently the past repairs didn't take care of that. It'll run fine then.
Maybe. Maybe not. There comes a time when you stop pouring money into something. Maybe I should declare this watch terminal and take it off life support.
Like I said, we're not a very sentimental bunch.
My dad said, nice thought or no, that it was foolish to spend more money on it. He'd stick it in a drawer and forget about it. My mom said the same thing the first time I got it fixed - and it was her father's watch. Even my grandmother agreed. There's no need to spend a lot on it, they said. It's just a watch.
My grandfather probably would agree, too. He was a frugal guy. He kept boxes of peppermint Life Savers and Wrigley's spearmint gum in his dining-room closet and would dispense them to us - a single piece of candy or stick of gum at a time.
He wasn't one of these grandfathers who gives his little grandchildren a big hug and a handful of change for an ice cream cone. He wore a shirt and tie just about every day of his life, even in retirement. He would kid us and rub his knuckles across our heads. He didn't always make us little kids feel comfortable.
But as my brothers and cousins and I got older and could talk to him more as equals, we started poking fun right back. And we got a kick out of his stories of growing up at the turn of the century in our hometown. Of watching the soldiers march off to the Spanish-American War. Of riding in the cavalry with Gen. Pershing in 1916, chasing Mexican revolutionary Pancho Villa along the border. Of working and scrimping in a jewelry store and eventually saving enough to buy out the owner. And of buying for my grandmother the house she had grown up in, the one her father had lost because of financial problems.
He never stopped working on that house. Anything that broke he fixed right away. In fact, for his last birthday, his 86th, we gave him wrestler's kneepads so he wouldn't wear through his pants while crawling around on its roof.
I saw a lot of him my first year out of college, when I spent a half-year back at home before moving out for good. I got to enjoy his company. When he died that summer after a short illness, I was sad but glad I had gotten the chance to better appreciate him.
Maybe that's why, soon afterward, Granny pressed that watch into my hand, its face and band still spattered with paint from Granddad's repair jobs, not saying a word and commanding me not to say anything.
I don't need this 30-year-old watch; I've got others. And my whole family thinks it's crazy to spend more money on it. Even my grandfather, Mr. One-Life-Saver-At-A-Time, would probably rub a noogie on my head and tell me to be smart with my money.
Like I said, we're not a very sentimental bunch.
I think I'll spend the $69 anyway. ILLUSTRATION: Photo
Matt Bowers
by CNB