The Tale of The Watch: A True
American Odyssey, er, Oddity
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Once
upon a time many years ago people concerned about minority
programming in public broadcasting met at the offices of
the Corporation for Public Broadcasting. It was the summer
of 1978 and they settled in for a long day of meetings.
The
group included Dr. William Mason, a scholar in the somnolent
sciences; Dr. Thomas Hardy, a specialist in oracular circumnavigation;
and Richard Gingras, a prodigious curmudgeon well known
for knowing much about very little. The group was guided
by Daniel del Solar, Esquire, a graduate of Harvard College,
a compulsive conspiracy theorist, and a descendant of a
long line of South American revolutionaries and ne'er-do-wells.
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The
six pound Seiko Datamatic, a jewel-encrusted masterpiece
of chronographic functionality and elegance.
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Daniel,
while fretting fearfully about the "radioactive waves"
emanating from the Russian Embassy next door, bravely focused
on the day-long meeting on behalf of "good intentions."
That and the promise of lunch. At the close of the morning session,
we made a quick exit to a local Chinese restaurant.
As
the group sauntered along M street enjoying the warm summer sunshine,
Daniel spied a swarthy gentleman sitting in a car parked at the
curb with the door open. As the group passed him, Daniel, while
deep in animated discussion with himself, heard the the gentleman
say, " Hey meester, you wanna buy a watch?"
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The
group laughed and kept walking, unsure whether Daniel was
engaged in a meaningless encounter with a street vendor
or completing a quick rendezvous with his longtime Agency
handler. Unnoticed by his associates, Daniel stopped and
hastily went over to consider the vendor's wares. As the
group entered the restaurant, Daniel was nowhere to be seen.
Concerned or not, hey proceeded to order. A short while
later Daniel ran in and exclaimed excitedly, "Look
at the bargain I just scored! It's a Seiko Datomatic! And
it was only $15!" We sympathetically advised that you
can't buy a watch of that caliber on the street but Daniel
quickly countered, "It looks genuine to me!"
As
he struggled to pass the watch around the table, we couldn't
help but notice its heft. It seemed far more than a watch,
possibly an Incan idol, a talus from the Taj Mahal, or the
missing prize from a very large box of Crackerjack?
The close group of friends rallied to Daniel's side and
many supportive comments ensued: what are the watch seller's
store hours? Does he take exchanges? How do you arrange
to meet this rolling dealer of fine chronographs? Does he
handle repairs? How about routine maintenance?
With
the thoughtful support of his friends, Daniel kept and wore
The Watch proudly, though now he walked with a list, had
difficulty shaking hands, and ironically, seldom knew the
correct time.
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Daniel
left the Corporation for Public Broadcasting and took a position
in New York City for several months. As time passed, Daniel began
to feel that the burden of the watch was more than he could carry
-- both figuratively and literally. He sent a message to Dr. Mason
guiding him to pick up a package from one of Daniel's "friends".
Sure enough, the package -- which was only slightly smaller than
a global shipping container -- contained The Watch. Mason was
now its new keeper. He was to cherish and protect it for until
death, unless he could pass it on to another of the Four Watchmen
of the Apocalypse who would do likewise.
Several
years later The Watch was passed on to Mr. Gingras in California,
who maintained and honored The Watch for over a decade, adopting
a long term responsibility that no others would even consider.
The Watch lived well in California, maintained good time, ticking
its way through to the new millenium. At that portentious time,
Dr. Hardy accepted the crucible of Watch oversight.
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With
a mixture of relief, reluctance, and a rash of resignation,
Mr. Gingras removed The Watch from its sacred resting place
and arranged for cross-country transport. With the capable
support of the Dutch airline KLM, and at considerable expense
to Mr. Gingras, the watch was mounted on the back of a 747
and flown to Washington. There, on the evening of May 16th,
2001 in a candlelight ceremony infused with sacred beverages
it was honorably conveyed to Dr. Hardy. |
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The
Four Watchmen, or at the least a majority quorum of the Four,
will meet in May of 2002 to determine the next in the long line
of successive Watch bearers. It is an honor that many desire but
few can righteously accept.
The
Four Watchmen
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