Neil Remington Abramson commented as follows:
Isn’t it curious how physical objects become imbued with the memories of people who have been dear to us. The watch on the right is the one I received from my mother, Jane Abramson, (also Jane Remington and Jane Alben), 37 years ago, when she was the same age as I was – 63 – until June 2 of this year, when I turned 64. The watch on the left I received from my dear wife about 15 years ago because my mother’s watch was broken.
In truth, my mother didn’t actually give me the watch. She sent me a cheque – birthday or Christmas, I forget, but probably birthday – for $200 and I bought the watch, and a pair of pointy-toed cowboy boots I still have and hardly ever wear due to the curious toes. Points were in fashion that year but never since again, I fear.
Still, when I wear the watch, I feel closer to my mother, maybe as if honouring her in some obscure sense. When I wear the black one, I think of my wife, and the effect is the same.
They aren’t great watches. They’re both functional, not particularly pretty. I doubt either has more than sentimental value. Both have been repaired more than they were ever worth new. Somewhere I still have the watches of my murdered father, William Walter Remington, and my stepdad, Ed Abramson, both which I had repaired and wore for years.
I guess for now I’ve given up on Bill Remington’s, even though it’s the only possibly valuable one. It cost me $400 years ago to rehabilitate it. Now the spring’s broken again, and I never really got used to winding it every day. No doubt someday I’ll get it fixed again and wear it another few years.
My birthday present this year was getting new bands for the two watches. The Mom watch has sat abandoned for 2.5 years since the band broke in Skopje and I swore I was done with the darn thing that needed so many repairs. Bought a new watch in disgust. Now that one lies broken in turn and I’m back to my 37 year old Pulsar. Some things you just can’t detach from – like the marker of more than half a lifetime, and a loved one gone these 22+ years and counting.