Letter From America: De Profundis
...I have long been convinced that the best way to find something is to replace it. That seldom fails to produce the missing item...
Ronnie Bray tells the hilarious tale of two "lost'' watches and one sparkling new timepiece.
For more of Ronnie's wonderful prose please click on Letter From America in the menu on this page.
Although I am usually very good with watches and clocks, I recently stood in need of a wristwatch. I had been without one for three weeks before I weakened and got my head ready to wander into the local supermarket and buy a watch that looked as if it cost a hundred pounds for a round six bright brass ones. Not that I need a watch when I am at home, because we have several clocks in every room, including the garage and the bathrooms, but I was dependant on others when I wandered abroad.
The old song advises, "If you want to know the time, ask a policeman," but the City of Mesa Police whiz past in their shiny cars in hot pursuit of perpetrators, as American criminals are called, so no use trying to stop one in mid-flight for no better purpose than finding whether it is time I was home. I doubt that they would be best pleased despite advertising their mission to "Serve and Protect."
I was not watchless, I will have you understand. I had a stainless steel timepiece that Gay bought for me, and a very useful sports watch that was a gift from our good friend Sharon, but where were they? I had worn both of them – one at a time – only a few weeks ago, and I am a creature of habit, taking them off either at the computer, in which case they sit on the desk, in my recliner, in which case they sit on the table between the overstuffed La-Z-Boy and Gay’s glider, or at bedtime, in which case I plonk them on the chest on drawers adjacent to my bed.
Those afflicted with that condition of memory called Old Timers disease, will appreciate the images that come to mind as I struggle to remember where I had laid either of them. The images are bright, vivid, and detailed, but upon arriving at the location in the images, there is no watch there. It doesn’t matter how often I look in the same place: if I find no watch the first time, I never find one on any subsequent visit.
I have long been convinced that the best way to find something is to replace it. That seldom fails to produce the missing item. However, I was so convinced of the truth of this principle that I held off getting a replacement because I was certain that if I did, they would then turn up smiling, possibly laughing, and I reasoned, "Why buy a new one when they are here somewhere?" That view prevailed.
It prevailed until I reasoned that it was silly to go around without knowing what time it was, even for a retired man, when for the sake of a few measly dollars I could be back in touch with the diurnal rotation of the earth – the nocturnal phases were satisfied by clock radios on each side of the bed - and locate myself within the time-space continuum at a glance. So, I decisioned to get a new watch.
When my body is "all aching and racked with pain," I move on my decisions with slow and deliberate velocity. So, you are safe in assuming that although I was definitely going to procure a new watch, a couple of weeks passed by without any sense of urgency inciting me to actually effect the commission of the task. Yet it hung before my eyes, like Lady Macbeth’s visionary dagger without materialising.
As is so often the case, the dream, became reality by the interposition of two ladies who add so much to my life and who, when they are not inspiring me to action, occasionally remove the reins from my hands and drive matters themselves. Gay and Laura were going to rifle the stock at the big Sears store in downtown Mesa, and check what the Swiss watchmakers in China had sent to Wal-Mart in the past few days, and on departure they announced that whatever else they did, they would get me a watch. I was too weak to object, so I told them to get me a gold-looking watch, but not to pay more than twelve dollars for it. That is around seven pounds in real money.
They returned after some hours with their trophies and handed me a packet that contained one of the most handsome watches it has been my lot to clap peepers on! Stainless steel with a golden bezel, and an expanding metal bracelet if brushed steel with fine golden fillets on each link. It was perfect.
As it had a day and date function, it took some time to get them reconciled with the actual day and time, but it now announces the days of the week in either Spanish or English, according to personal preference, and displays the date in all language using Arabic numerals – not actually in Arabic, but using the familiar numbers that are not Roman, hence Arabic.
It has a clear face, easily-seeable hands, and a legend on the face that informs that it is "Water resistant to 100 feet." I have racked my brain to consider under what circumstances I might find myself at such a depth, but answer came there none, although I have not stopped considering a range of possibilities, nine of them attractive, and have resolved never to board any sea-going vessel named "Poseidon!"
I had had the new watch for less than four weeks when the steel watch crept out from under the bed on my side, and three days later I moved a pile of papers on the computer desk and found the sports watch. I now have one watch for even days, one for odd days, and one for high holy days and Sundays! With care and more than ordinary good fortune, I should never be lost for the time again.
As for the wonderfully reassuring characteristics of the new watch, I am not promising ever to descend to a depth of one hundred feet, but if ever I do I will at least know what time it is!
Copyright © 2006 Ronnie Bray
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Other stories at:
http://www.2theheart.com/author_ronnie_bray
http://www.meridianmagazine.com/voices/011024summer.html
