By David S. Kerr

Published: April 3, 2008

Most families have a little something, a trinket or a token perhaps, that connects them to a generation before them. It can be anything. A tea service that belonged to a special aunt, a pen your grandfather used to carry, or in the case of a friend of mine, a St. Christopher’s medal that his dad wore during the Korean War. The possessions can be surprisingly commonplace, but for various reasons, they become a representation of the person who once owned them. 

That’s the way I feel about my watch. It’s called an Oyster Lipton. It was made by Rolex and according to the company’s serial number history, was manufactured in 1939 or 1940. A collector’s item, it also carries a rather special meaning for me, since it was a gift to my father before he joined the Navy in World War II.  He always said it brought him luck. 

I remember when I was little being told, very gently, that it wasn’t for little boys to play with and I was not to touch it. Everyone has heard warnings like that. I could handle it, under supervision, but if it was on the dresser I was to leave it be. Of course, if I had known then all it had been through, I would imagine there was little that a 6-year-old could have done to damage it. But in retrospect, I understand why it was so precious.

Dad wore it during all of World War II. However, it was on Iwo Jima where he figured his luck was going to run out. He was in charge of a Navy hydrographic survey team and was convinced that this time he wasn’t going to make it. It was a premonition, not uncommon in battle I am told, that didn’t go away.  Fortunately, he was wrong. He was wounded, though not seriously, but the watch, the very one I am wearing, didn’t make out so well. It was smashed during the landing. He figured it was finished, but he hung on to it just the same and was delightfully surprised a couple months later when a jeweler in Honolulu said he could fix it. From that point on, its place as a personal keepsake was secure. 

He wore the watch for most of the remainder of his life. However, unlike modern Rolexes, this was a simple design and the numbers on the dial were small. My Dad found that he couldn’t tell time without reaching for his glasses. Though finally, what made him put it aside was the day that it simply stopped working, and a rather unscrupulous jeweler, who just wanted to sell him a new watch, told him it was impossible to repair.

He was disappointed but philosophical, and went ahead and bought a new watch. A year or two later, after he had become ill, I mentioned the watch, and that I had read an article saying that Rolex would fix any watch it had ever made. He perked up at that, retrieved the watch, and said, “…if you can get it fixed, you can have it.”

Rolex, through a local jeweler (remember, this was in the days before the Internet) responded by telex that they could supply all the needed parts. The price tax for the repair was surprisingly small and the watch, as it did so long ago in World War II ticked back to life. My Dad was pleased, and though I offered it back to him, he said a deal was a deal and that it was time for me to wear it.

That was more than 20 years ago. He has long since passed on, but the watch and what it represents is something I prize very dearly. Though I have not had to face any life or death situations like Iwo Jima or all the other hot spots of the Pacific, he thought this watch brought him luck, and I have the same feeling. 

As personally priceless as the watch may be, it’s not cutting edge technology. While Rolex products, even old ones, have a fine reputation, it still loses three or four minutes a day, and in something most people have long consigned to history, it still requires winding. Also, unlike modern day watches, it can’t tell you what time it is in China, it doesn’t have a sweep second hand, and it doesn’t light up at night.  It’s even a little hard to read. But nothing is going to stop me from wearing it.

David S. Kerr is an Aquia resident and a former member of the Stafford County School Board. Contact him at info@stafford countysun.com.