The band is two-tone 18k gold sandwiched by cold heavy steel. The face a dark blue with a hint of purple surrounded by a thin gold ring. Gold notches where the numbers would be. All numbers other than 3 which is replaced by the date and a raised crystal to magnify ensuring less strain on the eyes. For the 12. The gold Rolex symbol crowns the top. I had been admiring the dexterity of this piece for 30 years easily. It was my fathers.
Growing up Dads style was very “Don Draper” chic. This was supported by a closet full of suits from New York City and custom shirts made in the small town we lived in. He took his appearance very seriously while carefully making sure he was not flashy. I always felt this was because he grew up with nothing and knew what it felt like to see someone with more. He would not buy a BMW or Mercedes, instead stayed with a Ford, maybe Plymouth. The Rolex was a gift from my Mom. She saved her money from a part time job she had and bought it for him. Felt he deserved it and knew he would never buy it for himself. She made sure it was none too flashy, rather just enough to have it noticed. Well I noticed. It made me feel like I was big time with a piece of jewelry like this in the family. Looking back, I realize how foolish that sounds but again, I was a young kid who lived in a town with 1 McDonalds, a store on the corner known conveniently as the corner store. Speaking of Convenient, that was the name of our local convenient store. We had a five and dime called Terry’s where Terry would ring you up. A Rolex is something you hear on the TV or Movies and now my Dad has one on his wrist. I would always ask Dad to wear it, pretend I was a big shot Advertising executive… I basically would pretend I was Dad.
“One day, I will give you this watch and it will not mean the same as it does to you today and you will wear it for different reasons than why you want it now, but it will be yours.” He told me this after a University of Kentucky basketball game. UK basketball was our thing, and almost never missed a home game. The day that seemed so like an impossible thought in the future is now here and although my father is still very much alive, he did not give it to me. It was my mom.
My dad has Alzheimer’s which if you are not not sure what exactly it is I will tell you it has got to be the cruelest disease one can get. My father a once powerful man who made big decisions for huge companies, managed a slew of people as well as territories now needs my help to sit in in the passenger seat of my car. Not his. He stopped driving a couple years ago. He is still alive, but I miss him terribly. I’m thankful that I still have him to see but the spark has left. He is quiet, confused and may even be frightened. I’m not sure. Conversations are hard, he cannot keep one and I will just go with whatever direction he takes it. Dad was always my “Go To” for business questions, male advice from one husband to another. Hell he was my best man at my wedding. This has been a progression for a little over five years. Norah, my first born is 5 and a half (Lord don’t ever forget the half) which is right about when it all started. I have two kids now who love him dearly. My oldest knows somethings going on but loves to help him. They color together. I will admit, this is not how I pictured him as a grandfather and that’s okay. Because he is kind and loving. Smiles when he sees their faces or watches them play. Wants everything to do with them even if he is not sure how.
Over the last year, my relationship with my Dad has changed and although it is not the way I would have preferred, I do enjoy and cherish it. He now has no idea who I am, and each time I see him I actually get to see what strangers see when they meet him. On drives I get to talk with him like two dudes and guess what? He actually likes me. Not because I’m his son and he has to, but because he genially likes me. I’ve heard him tell mom, “That man is a real nice guy.” On Christmas I put together his train set that his father gave him as a young boy. He was down on the floor near me but not too close as to not make someone you barely know uncomfortable. He had a child-like expression on his face hoping to see this Lionel spark across this huge old metal toy track. With a couple of shocks and internally exploding frustration from a few failed attempts the train was running. I had never seen my father smile like that. I was able to witness an inner child I’ve never known erupt with joy as his childhood toy came to life. It was genuine, not clouded by mishaps of the day, the current political climate, or other adultying worries. He was completely happy as he shot through a vortex to the past. He would make sure my son Nash could see the train and was more than thankful when Norah helped him with stopping and starting the train.
Now I have his watch. A symbol of love, compassion, strength, and best of all a legacy that will be passed down to my son. It turns out Dad was right. This watch did end up meaning so much more than what I thought as a child. This watch takes me to a place where I remember who Dad was. A great man who loved his wife and family. A man who worked hard to provide and even harder to make memories. A man who would be in New York on business and somehow make it to my swim meet. A man who would pass baseball with me in a suit right after pulling into the driveway. A man I will always try to be. Now when life presents me with a difficult issue, or I find that I just need my dad, I look at my watch and think of what he would say to me. His way of calming me down, having me figure it out, and give me the confidence all young men and women need.