RIVER CITY JOURNAL: THERE'S NO TICK-TOCK IF YOU FORGET TO WEAR YOUR WATCH

How do I know this? Simple. I forget to put my watch on, and then I spend most of the day looking at my arm. Ah, life.

I can't tell you how many times I've looked at my left arm today.

Is it broken? Scarred? Maimed? Sunburned?

None of the above.

It is watchless.

I do that once in a while. I forget to put on my wristwatch.

If you're wearing a wristwatch, you have no idea whether it ever gets used or not. Looking at a watch is like breathing. You just do it. Apparently, your wrist, eyes and brain work out this deal where information regarding time is traded around without so much as a second thought.

I understand we humans do a lot of things this way. Habit. Conditioned reflex. I guess there are a lot of names for it.

The wristwatch I'm currently wearing -- when I remember to put it on -- is a 1968-model Bulova that never needs winding or new batteries. Really.

I bought it when we were living in Dallas in the 1960s when we didn't have a lot of money to spend on frills. I needed a new watch, and for the first time in my life decided to test the advice I had been given so often: buy quality and you'll save money in the long run.

Well, it nearly broke our bank account, but I bought this self-winding Bulova watch. The jeweler who sold it to me said that every time I moved my wrist, the watch would wind itself.

Sure enough, I've never had to wind the watch.

However, I've noticed that if I don't wear the watch for long periods of time, it runs down. So I always check the time when I put it on.

But first I have to remember to put it on.

I wish the watch had an alarm -- a really loud alarm like a fire engine or factory lunch whistle -- to tell me to look at my watch when I need to be somewhere at a certain time.

You already know about my problem here. I can write myself a note about an appointment, but what do I do to remind myself to read the note?

That's where a really good watch would be worth its weight in gold.

From time to time I tire of the Bulova's plain looks. I find less-expensive watches that are stylish and have a little glitz or glamour. I buy them. They last a few months. Then they die. And I wear the Bulova for a while longer.

I think more than 30 years is pretty good for a wristwatch that gets abused the way I treat watches. My watches have to put up with water, sweat, dirt and being clunked against anything I get near. Of all the watches I've known, only the Bulova has been able to take it.

This is not a pitch for Bulova. I'm sure I could have purchased a Rolex or some other high-quality watch back in 1968, and I'd still be wearing it too.

I did have a brief fling with a Rolex, a knock-off model that I'm now told was illegal as all get out that I found in a display at a convenience store/gun shop in the Ozarks. Hey, you can find a lot of things in the Ozarks. Trust me.

Anyway, this faux Rolex wasn't very expensive, and it felt good to wear a handsome piece of time-keeping jewelry. Well, it was handsome for several days. Then the gold started turning that ugly color of metallic green. And the silver started flaking.

But in spite of my clunking, the fake Rolex kept perfect time. I told everyone I intended to wear it until the battery died or the watch stopped working, whichever came first.

You know what? That piece-of-junk watch didn't gain or lose a second for over two and a half years.

Then it quit.

So I put the Bulova back on, and the second hand started making its repetitive swings around the dial. As far as I can tell, the Bulova holds no grudges. It seems to know its function is to serve me well regardless of my fickle moods that frequently result in cheap -- but temporary -- replacements.

I suppose there's a moral in this tale. Maybe you know what it is. If you do, and if you have a good watch of your own, you're in pretty good shape.

I better go write a note to myself to put my watch on.

Any volunteers to remind me to read the note?

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