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·For me, my dad always having a rectangular gold Hamilton on his wrist - be it when he was in a suit and tie for work (a CPA) five days per week or in jeans and a white t-shirt for yard work on weekends - and seeing him slide a finger under the crown and wind it daily, always during breakfast, before dropping me at the school bus stop up our street while en route to the office or before announcing the day's work outdoors on weekends.
When I was six years old he drove me to our local jewelry store, Kerr's Jewelry, on a Saturday afternoon just after finishing yard mowing & hedge trimming. Upon entering the store he announced to John (the owner), "Big day today... first watch for this youngster. Could you please lay out what you think would fit the bill?"
And with that Mr. Kerr placed a thick swatch of black velvet down atop the glass showcase, walked over to a vertical revolving display case, turned it off from rotating, placed gloves on his hands and removed five watches. He then laid out the watches on the velvet while my dad lifted me up so I could see.
The memory is still very vivid while the small details have faded with time but I do recall an unpronounceable name that begin with the letter B and ended with the letter A and then the name I knew best - because of all the television commercials with John Cameron Swayze - Timex.
I still remember that all the watches were round and that three were "shiny metal" and two were, "Just like yours dad, yellow!" ...which I announced to both dad and Mr. Kerr.
Four had black straps but the fifth one, wow, it was red... a darkish red leather with yellow metal case.
"That one! I really like that one!"
"That is a wise choice," Mr. Kerr said while picking it up and motioning for me to hold out my left wrist.
My dad smiled while saying, "We can't argue against Mickey Mouse now can we John?"
John, a very quiet and reserved first generation German American, who I become friends with later as an adult, and long after he sold the business and had retired, and who attended both my mom's funeral in 1997 and my dad's in 2015, smiled and said, "No, I do not believe we can."
Mr. Kerr placed the watch on my wrist while asking my dad, "Shall I show him how to set it and wind it or is that yours to do?"
My dad mentioned that him showing me would be a fine idea.
I was set back down on my own two feet while Mr. Kerr lifted a gate built into the counter and motioned for me to follow.
We went back to his office with my dad following. I sat on Mr. Kerr's lap at his bench, which I distinctly recall looking like a cross between something from Santa Claus' workshop and a scene from Pinocchio, while he took the watch back off my wrist and began explaining the process to me. Dad sat down next to us and watched.
Leaving the shop I felt like something big, very significant, had occurred and I reached out for and found my dad's hand and held it. He was, for the most part, a very serious man - United States Marine Corps Korean War veteran who had survived the Battle of The Chosin Reservoir, raised dirt poor on a farm during the Great Depression, post-war had used the GI Bill to put himself through Syracuse University with my mom's assistance of working full-time as a stenographer at Westinghouse in their earliest days of marriage, and then had gone on to graduate with honors with a double major in Accounting and Financial Planning, eventually becoming a Junior then Senior partner and over time owning the entire firm, as such he was not natural nor good at affection - but that day he also found my hand and didn't let go.
We walked not back to his car but instead to Diamond Park, just up the street from John's shop, and on a park bench in the sunshine he sat with me and taught me how to tell the time.
He was a man of his generation - he did what needed done, always tried his best and was raised with little affection so he didn't know any other way.
I don't remember him ever holding my hand before that day or after, but I'll always remember that day until my days are done.
When I was six years old he drove me to our local jewelry store, Kerr's Jewelry, on a Saturday afternoon just after finishing yard mowing & hedge trimming. Upon entering the store he announced to John (the owner), "Big day today... first watch for this youngster. Could you please lay out what you think would fit the bill?"
And with that Mr. Kerr placed a thick swatch of black velvet down atop the glass showcase, walked over to a vertical revolving display case, turned it off from rotating, placed gloves on his hands and removed five watches. He then laid out the watches on the velvet while my dad lifted me up so I could see.
The memory is still very vivid while the small details have faded with time but I do recall an unpronounceable name that begin with the letter B and ended with the letter A and then the name I knew best - because of all the television commercials with John Cameron Swayze - Timex.
I still remember that all the watches were round and that three were "shiny metal" and two were, "Just like yours dad, yellow!" ...which I announced to both dad and Mr. Kerr.
Four had black straps but the fifth one, wow, it was red... a darkish red leather with yellow metal case.
"That one! I really like that one!"
"That is a wise choice," Mr. Kerr said while picking it up and motioning for me to hold out my left wrist.
My dad smiled while saying, "We can't argue against Mickey Mouse now can we John?"
John, a very quiet and reserved first generation German American, who I become friends with later as an adult, and long after he sold the business and had retired, and who attended both my mom's funeral in 1997 and my dad's in 2015, smiled and said, "No, I do not believe we can."
Mr. Kerr placed the watch on my wrist while asking my dad, "Shall I show him how to set it and wind it or is that yours to do?"
My dad mentioned that him showing me would be a fine idea.
I was set back down on my own two feet while Mr. Kerr lifted a gate built into the counter and motioned for me to follow.
We went back to his office with my dad following. I sat on Mr. Kerr's lap at his bench, which I distinctly recall looking like a cross between something from Santa Claus' workshop and a scene from Pinocchio, while he took the watch back off my wrist and began explaining the process to me. Dad sat down next to us and watched.
Leaving the shop I felt like something big, very significant, had occurred and I reached out for and found my dad's hand and held it. He was, for the most part, a very serious man - United States Marine Corps Korean War veteran who had survived the Battle of The Chosin Reservoir, raised dirt poor on a farm during the Great Depression, post-war had used the GI Bill to put himself through Syracuse University with my mom's assistance of working full-time as a stenographer at Westinghouse in their earliest days of marriage, and then had gone on to graduate with honors with a double major in Accounting and Financial Planning, eventually becoming a Junior then Senior partner and over time owning the entire firm, as such he was not natural nor good at affection - but that day he also found my hand and didn't let go.
We walked not back to his car but instead to Diamond Park, just up the street from John's shop, and on a park bench in the sunshine he sat with me and taught me how to tell the time.
He was a man of his generation - he did what needed done, always tried his best and was raised with little affection so he didn't know any other way.
I don't remember him ever holding my hand before that day or after, but I'll always remember that day until my days are done.
