Bewatched

(From the Janesville Messenger, 7-6-08)

Does anybody really know what time it is?
Does anybody really care?
If so, I can’t imagine why....
- Jazz/rock group Chicago

Chicago’s sentiments from the idealistic 1960’s seem quaint now. We all care about the time, because time makes us care about it. After our alarm clock wakes us up, our kitchen calendar tells us where we have to be and when, our Microsoft Outlook pops up a window to remind us when it’s time to go, and our Blackberry buzzes or rings for the same reason.

Thanks to the schedule functions on cell phones, iPods and PDAs, more people are starting to view wristwatches as fashion accessories rather than timekeepers. But to those of us who still rely on our wristwatch, it is much more than both of those; it is an appendage.

For example, recently my beloved Mickey Mouse watch broke. When it comes to entertainment, I’ll take Bugs Bunny over Mickey any day, but where timepieces are concerned, the mouse wins, watch hands down. This was my second Mickey watch, a unique one that had Mickey looking left instead of right and wearing a look of either surprise or anger - I could never tell which. Since I primarily wore it at work, either could have been appropriate.

I went to my backup, an old CBS-TV Olympics watch I had won as part of a sales contest over a decade ago. I had no intention of making that watch my permanent appurtenance, but it would do for the time being. Within a few days, however, I remembered why I had stopped wearing it in the first place. It had a flaw, a sharp point where the watch connected to the band, and the result was a pair of snagged dress shirts. Trying to fix the watch just made it look bad, so like a Tibetan protester, I boycotted the Olympics.

My final emergency watch was a pocket watch I used to wear at a time when I wore suits every day to work. I’ve always liked pocket watches but without the additional pockets a suit jacket gives you to carry your stuff, it became impractical, losing the fight for pocket space to car keys, change and breath mints.

It never really got a chance for a rematch. As I was trying to put the watch back into service, I managed to break off the piece of metal that holds the watch battery in place. Three clock strikes and you’re out.

The result was that I spent a week without a watch. It was amazing how such a small change can throw you off. It felt strange. I felt naked.

I looked like an idiot when, out of habit, I would end up staring at my empty wrist three or four times a day. To try and shake the habit, I transferred my cancer bracelet from my right wrist to my left wrist. It didn’t help; I looked even weirder trying to tell the time by looking at a bracelet.
As bad as my watchlessness was for me, it would probably be worse for my wife. At least I take mine off. She wears hers to bed at night, because her uncorrected vision isn’t good enough to see the alarm clock on her nightstand.

Fianlly, I made what will most likely be my purchase highlight of 2008 - a new vintage-style Mickey Mouse watch. Bewatched again, I feel much better, like a caffeine addict who has gotten his 150 milligram fix in his morning latte.

As is my custom, I have set the new watch five minutes ahead, in a futile attempt to not be late for appointments. Though I think all that has done over the years is to condition me to the fact that my watch is fast.

Maybe if I set Mickey ahead ten minutes…