RIVER CITY JOURNAL: SAY, FELLA, DO YOU HAVE THE CORRECT TIME?

How many times have I been asked that? Well, the answer now is "No, the repair shop has the time. I am now timeless."

For nearly 30 years I have worn a wristwatch that has never been wound and has never had a new battery. It is a self-winding watch that, as far as I can figure out, is the closest I'll ever come to a perpetual-motion machine.

Somehow in its quarter-sized case, the watch's gears and gizmos rely on the movement of my wrist to keep it going. And going. And going.

When I purchased the watch in Dallas, I fully expected it to last about as long as any other watch. In my case, that isn't very long. For one thing, I wear a watch when I shouldn't, like while building a deck or giving the cat a bath. I looked in the owner's manual, and the watch manufacturer specifically said deck building and cat washing wouldn't be too good for their timepiece.

The watch is supposed to be waterproof. I guess it is, because it has been in a lot of water. Sometimes it gathers moisture under its crystal during the hot, humid months of summer. But it keeps ticking away.

I think it is the perseverance and the endurance of such a tiny mechanism that fascinates me the most. It is all too easy, in this throwaway world of ours, to forget that persistence and determination can and do have their rewards. Whenever I want to give up on a project, I look at that small watch full of itty-bitty parts that just won't quit. It helps.

Anyone who has worn a wristwatch for a long time knows the feeling when the timekeeper is in the shop for an overhaul. How many times, do you suppose, will you look at the hairs on your wrist before you remember the watch is temporary out of service? Habits are addictive after all.

Without a watch, I am relying on the many other keepers of time for guidance. At home, the biggest and most expensive clock my wife and I own is in the kitchen. Its lighted dial shows the time even in the dark, and it can be seen from all the way across the kitchen. Sometimes we forget the clock is really a microwave oven. Some day we might even figure out what all those other buttons do. For now we are happy just to know how to use the "Set Clock" button.

We have another expensive clock at home. It's in the family room. Most evenings we sit in big recliners and look at it. Oh, sure, you can watch television on this clock if you want to. The best part is using the remote control to activate an on-screen display of the time. See, men don't flip through channels to see the programs. We're just looking for the correct time.

There are a couple of interesting his-and-hers clocks in the bedroom. Hers buzzes annoyingly until you hit the snooze alarm. His sound like the grinding gears on a '57 Chevy transmission, and once it is turned off, it is off for good. Just like a '57 Chevy.

There are more clocks around as well. There is the pocket watch that belonged to my grandfather on display in the bookshelf. It doesn't run now. The oldest clock, in the living room, came from England and dates from the 1860s. In the dining room is the Chinese clock my father brought from China during World War II. The living room and dining room clocks must be wound up to keep going. Perpetual motion, I suppose, was still a ways off when they were made.

I am anxious to get my wristwatch back. I think we all need reminders of how little machines can do big jobs. Heck, my watch probably thinks the microwave is a pretty big investment just to tell time.

~R. Joe Sullivan is the editor of the Southeast Missourian.