At Home with Tech

This was my father’s captain’s ship clock. I can remember the sounds of its chimes from when I was a young boy. But after he passed away, I couldn’t find the winding key.

Our son has graduated from middle school. I can’t believe it. Yesterday, he was in diapers. Today, he’s as tall as me. Tomorrow, he’s off to high school.

I wanted to get him a little gift to commemorate this achievement in his young life. I thought back to some of the presents my father had given me, and I remembered an engraved pocket watch when I graduated from high school.

I was a bit confused by it at the time, because nobody used pocket watches. Maybe certain people did when my father was growing up. Certainly, I wasn’t going to carry a pocket watch around. Still, I liked it. And it’s turned out to be a keepsake, which I’ve held onto across the decades since.

My Son’s Engraved Compass
Still, I figured a pocket watch would make even less sense to my son. But it got me wondering. What object or tool could I engrave? And then I thought about a compass. That carries some meaning, right?

Perhaps, an old compass with metal plating that would allow for an engraved message. But where could I buy something like that?

As it turned out, I found it at a local watch and clock repair store. They didn’t officially sell compasses, but the owner happened to have a few from a collection he had purchased.

Clearly, fate wanted me to find my compass. The one I chose had a removable dark metal top cover, which I used as an engraving surface. It was perfect.

Our son liked his gift. But I know its true value as a memory capsule will only reveal itself in the years and decades to come. So, you can check back on this blog in June 2064 to see if he’s still got it. (Apologies in advance that generative A.I. Barrett will obviously be pumping out these posts at that point.)

My Father’s Ship Clock
While I was in the clock repair shop, I took a moment to look around. I spotted two brass captain’s ship clocks. They were just like the one my father had on our living room wall next to his desk when I was growing up in our New York City apartment. It was mounted there for as long as I can remember. He wound it dutifully every week, and it chimed with its confusing nautical ‘chime-the-watch’ design.

The chimes blended into the day-to-day city background noise, and I barely noticed the little ‘bongs’. When I was a teenager, my father eventually stopped winding the clock (I guess he lost interest), and it transitioned into a silent piece of wall art.

After my dad passed away in 2022, I took his captain’s clock home with me. I felt a strong connection to it (in some ways, more than my pocket watch).

But I couldn’t find the winding key. So, the captain’s clock remained silent.

The Key to Lost Sounds
So, I asked the owner of the clock repair shop if he might have a replacement key to my father’s clock. The owner told me to bring it in when I came back for my son’s engraved compass. He would see what he could do.

When I returned, I handed over the clock. He took it over to a big drawer of keys. And then he began trying them out… one key at a time.

He was at it for five minutes, and I was sure he was going to run out of keys. But then I saw one twist that generated the “click, click, click” sound.

Whoa! It was actually working!

He wound the clock, and then he wound the chime mechanism. (They operate separately.) He moved the clock hands about. And then I heard it.

“Bong, bong. Bong, bong. Bong.”

The sounds of those chimes pierced through my body like a wave of temporal energy.

I almost had to take a step backwards. It felt so visceral. I hadn’t heard those chimes in decades. Was I suddenly in a different multiverse or had I time traveled?

Then, I regained control of my senses, and I simply applauded the store owner’s accomplishment.

Holding onto Distant Memories
I walked out of the store with my son’s compass, my dad’s functioning captain’s clock and the key.

In that moment, I recognized that I had crossed into a nexus between three generations. Fathers and sons. I had tethered the past to the future. It felt significant.

I had my old time-keeping devices from my father. Now, our son has his old compass from me, which should hold up just fine (unless unexpected future solar flares or alien invasion mess with the Earth’s magnetic field).

It’s nice that all this old tech still functions, but it’s not really about using these tools. (Digital versions took over years ago.)

It’s about the important memories they help you hold onto through their visual, tactile and audio cues.

Your Message in a Bottle
As a father, I think about this a lot. Usually, my digital family photo archiving is how I direct this energy. My need to document family history.

But photos fade, and digital files may not last into the distant future.

Turns out the engraving on a pocket watch or compass effectively becomes a message in a bottle, floating safely in the ocean to the future.

Yes, it’s old school… but it works.