Are Wrist Watches Obsolete?

I was at a women’s Expo at a local university when I passed by a crowded table. Women are like magnets to crowds at any sort of shopping venue and this venue was a shopping extravaganza. Tables lined either side of the walkway leading to the arena floor which was equally jammed full of wares to sell to the crowds of shoppers. Being short of time and a savvy shopper I set my radar to the tables already surrounded by women, a sure signal of a good deal. The first table I came to was kid’s costumes, a sure favorite of mother’s in this high children content city. The adjusted my sights to a gaggle of shoppers further down the hall, evaded all the others selling water softeners and elaborate bows, paused to try the fancy dip (the dill lemon is incredible) and then worked my way into the group surrounding a display of gorgeous watches. These watches were works of art covered in glistening jeweled bling in every color fabric combination possible, and priced to ensure being the feature of sister/mother sister gifts that year. As I reached through to pick up a hot pink and black band, I heard the shopkeeper explain that the watch face and bands were sold separately so you could mix and match. I was listening to the pitch that the watches were not only gorgeous but practical an my nodding my head with the general crowd consensus (the kind of nod you do when you are listening while at the same time your eyes are busily roving and your hand hovering to grab the prettiest piece before someone else) when a women’s voice interrupted with a statement that changed my life. “Don’t you have anything for my cell phone? I never wear a watch anymore!”
I heard an audible gasp from the crowd as I ripped my eyes from the table to my arm. There was my wrist bare of a watch yet there in my hand was clutched my cell phone and with a quick flick there was the time.
I pulled away from the rows of pretty bands, a little sad not to have the pink and black crystal confection and then realized I hadn’t really worn hot pink and black since the . . . .90’s? Worse yet I could not remember the last time I had worn a wrist watch. I looked again at my wrist – there was no telltale non tan spot to show where I had last worn it? As I thought about it I could not even remember when I had last worn a watch at all.
Later at home I checked in my display jewelry box for my watches – I had several. Gifts over the years of fancy watches from my husband, friends and kids. I pulled out the drawers and the last one on the bottom – when had I moved them there? Was full of watches. I pulled out at least 8 of them with mix and match bands and faces in all sorts of styles and accompanied with all kinds of memories of the gift giver. This green one Maddy and I picked out in Ireland. The kids gave me this one for Mother’s Day. I bought these three for ten at the California swap meet. I have a drawer full of watches, I said allowed as I leaned back with a sigh, I should start wearing them more. The next thought, unbidden dispelled my short-lived relief, “Do they still l work?” I went through the pile again, watch by watch, checking the time, the batteries, each and every one was dead. Dead? That could not be, that was wrong. I hadn’t even worn half of them.
I grabbed a few and went to my husband, I put the odd assortment in front of him and almost in tears paused for a moment before I could speak. He looked up at me with that quizzically patient face many men reserve for their almost hysterically wives and said, “What is it honey?” I said, none of my watches work. There are all dead. Can you fix them?” He explained about replacing the battery and a place in the mall and that was that for me. More effort? I should have bought the hot pink one back at the Expo. I was mulling this over when my daughter came in, she said, “What are you doing with those?” and I explained my saga and asked her if she wanted to go back to the Expo in hopes someone else had not snagged my now life-saving watch when she said, “Why do you need a watch? You never wear one. Wrist watches are obsolete. You use your cell phone to tell the time!” I respond quickly, about my soap box issue, “I don’t always carry my cell phone!” She nods that she knows this, fully understanding that her mom has this weird soap box issue about carrying the cell phone everywhere may cause some sort of cancer . . . she has heard it before . . . and yes it is true I soapbox about that all the time – when not carrying it of course – but with 3 kids a working mom does have to keep her cell phone close by somewhere – and yes, it’s usually buried in my purse – when I carry that which I rarely do – on in my car. She waits while that goes through my head and says, “ When you don’t have your cell phone you just seem to know. You know you look at the sky like a sun dial.”
I thought about that for a moment, how did I tell the time? How did I get my kid’s to the bus, their countless activities and classes on time. Well for one I never had them quite on time but how did I manage to get them their within the general time frame? For that matter how did I remember when to set out dinner, when to turn on my favorite TV shows or when it was time for bed?
My daughter must have faded off as I keep right on thinking . . . the other day my other daughter had asked me the time and I had looked at the sky and said “3:30” and had been right on the nose. “How do you do that?” she asked me, looking incredulous and interested – which believe me is a rare look from a 13-year old. I didn’t answer because I didn’t know and didn’t have time to care. But I did have time now and in fact time had just become a big question for me. How did I tell it?
The next week, still pondering the time question, but not as focused, I paid more attention to how I choose to tell what the time was without one of my wristwatches. This is what happened.
In the mornings my husband woke to an internal alarm and got up to turn off the kid’s alarm and wake them.
The first daughter would get ready till my husband would hear the rumble of the school bus coming up the lane, and then my husband would shout that the school bus was coming.
I awake to noises of shouting. You know the teenage shouting that happens in the morning, especially prevalent in females . . . need I say more?
If this shouting doesn’t also wake the second daughter (and yes also turn off her alarm – a gift from grandparents who must really think there is a hope of making our kids independent – bless them) then Chad gets her up.
Our son, an early riser, by then was watching morning cartoons with a big bowl of cereal and home work spread out in front of him in pretense of following the no cartoons till homework is done rule.
He hears the neighbor kids and dogs waiting outside for the next bus so he says goodbye with a kiss and wave.
I am up now doing my hair, I hear his school bus leave and I wonder how I know what time it is again till I realize I have until the last bus – the special needs bus – comes to finish my morning makeup.
I hear the bus rumble, I am ready, I head out the door.
I do check the time in the car to make sure I have time to get to my client. I forget about the watch time issue till the next day.
I work at laptop from a desk in my home office every other day. It is that day. I am sitting at my computer when I feel hungry. I go into the kitchen, note the oven clock says 11:30 and I make lunch to carry back to my desk.
Later that day I again hear the rumbling of the bus and realize it must be 2:30 as the first child is home. I leave my desk to greet her as she walks down the drive. I make her and the kids who will surely follow a snack and then go back to work after hearing about their school days and getting them started on chores.
An hour later one kid comes in to ask if they can play and I ask them what day it is? They say, well your home so it is a Monday or Wednesday and so as I recall it is a Wednesday I remind them that they have karate or dance or church group or whatever and then I go back to work.
In about another hour or so I hear fighting, so I know it’s time to start dinner. Sure enough I look at the time in the corner of my laptop and it is already 5:00! Time to start dinner.
After dinner I drive the kids round to their activities with a phone call or two to correlate the schedule with my husband who is driving round the other kids. And we agree to meet at home around 9:00. How do we tell the time there? Cell phone. Yes I admit it.
So it seems my week in review premise would suggest I told time by a pattern of noises, glances at clocks not attached to my wrist and kid’s reminders.
I felt like I had conducted a formal research study, feeling fairly snug about my observations yet still lamenting the wasted beauty and use of my wristwatches until the next week the unthinkable happened. The kid’s got out of school.
Here is what happened:
The first day, with no need to get the kid’s up at 5, my husband’s internal alarm was snoozed and I awoke to the sun and birdsong. A novel, peaceful kind of awakening which really everyone should experience . . . unless you have to be to work in 10 minutes. I realized I was late when I looked at the time on my bathroom wall. How long had that clock been there?

I got ready as fast as I could. Not set bus noise routine to guide my time so it felt like it took me twice as long and apparently it did because by the time I got into the car it was almost 2 hours from the time I had gotten up. I was majorly freaked out by that as I hadn’t even taken time to do my hair so how could that be? I got to work 2 hours late, I told them time then by noting the time on my computer at work – the “aren’t we special?” looks from my co-workers could of told me the time as well. Ha ha. How could I have been that late?
Well, later we realized that bathroom wall clock had not been set to Daylight savings time a few months back. (Sheesh, I don’t remember setting any of the clocks, doesn’t that happen automatically? I ask my husband this and he said, “no the battery powered clocks have to be reset by hand dear.” You got that tone too right?) I guess my body clock was still on the other time, I joked as I shared the saga with my co-workers . . .
The next day I made my husband promise to wake me up when he woke up and he did. Of course, the house was so quiet I snoozed a little, no bus rumbling to stress me, but finally got up and sat down at my computer in my office and noted the time on my laptop. I was okay today.
I worked all day, and was pleased at all I was accomplishing when I heard a car pull up looked out the window and realized Merrick was late to scouts – they had come to pick him us as he had not shown up. I looked at my laptop clock again, it was 1 pm. “We tried to call,” his leader gently chided. I ran round house, followed sounds of the TV and found him with his sisters still in PJ’s watching TV. “Scouts now! I yelled as I dashed around looking for my phone.
The rest of the day was a series of misses.
After almost missing scouts I went back to work for a few minutes before I had an appointment in town. Without the sounds of the bus or kids I worked on until I was late and I missed the following appointments – yes, all in one day.
I missed my conference call at 2pm
I forgot to pick Merrick up from scouts at 2:30 (“yes, he tried to call you!” she chided me again. How old was she anyway?
I missed my acupuncture appointment by 1 hour which made me miss my entire massage appointment. (something I really look forward to as a once a month treat!) I stood at the reception desk and said, “ How could I have missed it? My appointment is always at 3!” and she said you made it for 2:40.” I had I realized because I could go earlier now, because the kids are out of school!
I drove home and put dinner on, and they kids complained they had missed all sorts of things that night. What had happened to my time-activity balance? My sun dial knowledge of the time? Did I need to start wearing a wrist watch to replace the rumblings of the bus all because the kids were now home from school?
So, I pose the question to you . . . how many of you run your lives like I do with a series of glances at unattached clocks around your own or your kid’s and activities? How many of you wear a wrist watch? Which of us is happier? How many more years will any of us live by wearing or not wearing that band?
Should I go back and by the hot pink and black bling band? Or do I trust the universe to adjust my inner sundial to “schools out for summer “savings time?