Suzy Says

In keeping with the “time is money” theme de la semaine (apologies to those who have Quebec French forced upon them – see how I’m already thinking all Canadian and everything? – but I can rarely, if ever, restrain my inner Francophile), I can finally say:

I HAVE THE CLOCK.

Not only do I finally have the 250 year old grandfather clock*, almost 6 months after the whole d&eacuteb&acirccle started (sorry, still not restraining it), but it is all in one piece and it’s working. It only took $4,000, 6 months, and 3 house calls from the US clock experts to get it that way. More evidence that time = money.

But it looks better than I have ever seen it, and I hope that my father thinks I did OK with the responsibility of caring for it. I have to admit that much of how upset I have gotten over the whole fiasco has been because I feel that I let Dad down by not taking better care of it. However, if he was right and you just go out like a candle when you die, he has no idea. If ignorance = bliss, does that mean no after life?

Though I do have the clock and it’s ticking away majestically, what I don’t have is my watch. Faithful readers will recall how it is subject to work stoppages of a sudden and seemingly random nature, like French workers going on strike or French bus drivers who just stop, announce “Terminus!” and repair to the nearest caf&eacute, which, since it’s France, isn’t far. Fortunately “taxi” is the same in French and English, since it is, after all, one of the most important words to know in any language.

For those less familiar with my watch, that gives you some idea. In watch’s defense, it must be said that it is at least 75 years old, which makes it one of those pesky kids to the clock, but an old and venerable lady to most watches. I have resisted the temptation to replace the inner workings with something more modern and reliable because I love it that it’s still the original.

Same reason why I left the previous owner’s name engraved in script on the back: Eve Esquith. Not only an elegant name, but a reminder of the watch’s past and food for thought on who Eve was and the watch’s other owners. I always picture Eve as a flapper in a beaded gown who went to speakeasies and had handsome men light her cigarette, which would be in a long, ebony holder.

However, this means that it has to be repaired and coaxed to go on living a couple of times a year. It’s been at the shop for two weeks now. I miss the sparkle, but it’s been kind of liberating not knowing what time it is. But I’m hoping it will be ready to come with me on my trip.

Maybe Nature doesn’t permit two such timepieces to exist in the same place at the same time, and that’s been the whole problem all along.

*Clock has been in our family since it was made, near London, around 1745-1750. I inherited it from my father. You can read more about the saga of getting it from London to San Francisco here, here, and here. See why it’s such a big deal to me?