Warning: This blog post may not be relevant for readers under age 50 or so. The impact of the content could cause permanent damage by making the reader sorry they did not grow up in the 50”s—what a decade!
The Watch
It was such a small watch that one would really wonder how it looms large in my life as a rite of passage, a defining point. Perhaps richer people than our family had the ability to buy watches galore and treat them in a cavalier fashion. This was not so for the plain vanilla middle class.
On my ninth birthday I received a watch as my main gift. I remember how important the moment was, how it was a demarcation line in time that marked the beginning of becoming a young woman. I am guessing that by that time parents thought proper young ladies had learned to care for items that were precious.
Now a woman’s watch in the 50’s was a far cry from the watch of today. For instance I now sport a watch that is waterproof, tells me the day of the week, the hour, minute and second and reputedly carries more computing power than some of the Apollo computers. (My husband told me this, but I shall leave it to computer experts sometimes known as “wonks” to ferret out the truth of the matter.) I do know that Apollo 11 got us to the moon, but then there are some who hold that Stanley Kubrick faked the whole thing—you’re on your own on that.)
But, in 1955 we had no notion of such a futuristic happening. Everyone was plodding along, recuperating from World War II, building perfect little homes and raising their children to have values and appreciation for the American way of life.
And a watch was what many girls got for a birthday or Christmas present. I saw it as a ticket to being a woman, a young girl on the precipice of growing up. I even have a picture that was taken of me around that time and there I am sporting my little lady Bulova with its inexpensive black cord band. I looked so serious and proper with my perfect curls and a tight-lipped dour expression like a little spinster.
But the gift could not have been more important because I did treat it as a ticket. If I handled it with care I could prove myself responsible and worthy of the trust that was so important to me. I put it away properly, tried not to ever get it near water, and never treated it roughly.
The watch I wore in my career?—that was an IRONMAN watch. Yes, I, a woman, dared to buy a watch with the word “man” attached to it. But what I liked was the hint of the Ironman Decathlon, an event that entailed completing 10 extraordinary physical tasks that taxed one to the limit. And that is just what I felt like each day, like I was running, giving it all I had for a win, for recognition as an asset to my employer, something I would have earned.
I have plaques to that effect and I cherish them. I worked hard for them, and they were awarded for good service. However, the watch from my ninth birthday trumps them in a way. It was given with the hope that I would be worthy, be a good caretaker of all in my purview, a good friend, wife, mother in the future. It was given in trust of things to come. The watch set me on a course, my journey into time that is still not over.
Both watches were important to me – one to launch me into the future and one to tick away the minutes in my work and with that family I have loved so much. But they both did the same thing -- they marked time, that most valuable commodity, and made me aware that once lost it could never be retrieved. I have yet another tech-like watch that I wear and it too makes me aware of the hourglass effect. It makes me aware that “Art is long, and Time is fleeting,” as Longfellow said. So, I must be “up and doing” “still achieving and pursuing.”* My timepieces have served me well.
A website with Longfellow’s Poem, “A Psalm of Life”