Day 4: Connections to the past

I've never embraced the past. Not precisely sure why. I know my heritage, I've researched my Norse ancestry as several of those close to me can attest. I'm even known as the Norseman to a few, several years ago I even looked the part with long hair, beard, and braids. I miss my braids, but that's another blog. But all those things, my ancestry and such, are very archetypal. What I mean is that I've never really had any connection to the recent past, mine or my family's.

The past, for me, has always been just that: the past. Historical reference. It's simply not where I live. I live now, but now is a very long time because, in all reality, now is no time. There's an old truism, "There's no time like the present." But I like to flip it around and realize that in the present, there's no time. The word present comes from the Latin prae, an adverb or preposition which means "before" or "in front" and esse, the infinitive form of the verb sum, "to be". Literally to be before. Another way of saying it would be to say "the existence in front of you." To be now! Okay, I've gotten onto a tangent. Got so many rabbit trails in my mind, it's hard to keep from falling in sometimes. Let's see, retrace and retry.

So I don't live in the past, never really have. I have few things that connect me with my own past, and few friends who've known me long enough to ground me to my roots. And as for family, well, I've lived most of my life a long ways away from them and know them more distantly than most of my friends. Even photos of me as a child are few and far between. Few were taken and many that were have been lost to time and endless moves. Some have survived, like this one, taken at age five.

Not a bad looking kid, if I do say so myself. This picture amuses me, though, cause I see so much of myself in it. The eyes looking off, thoughtful and alert, arms crossed, left lip rising in a slight smirk as if I just told myself my own inside joke, probably about the photographer or the entire situation. No matter how much I live in the present, the past still affects me. Perhaps that's because the past isn't quite what we think it is. If our souls and spirits are eternal, as I believe they are, then that means they exist outside the constraints of time. If that's true, then my reality and experiences now can have an impact on who I was then and vice versa. To take it further, the things I have yet to do and experience could very well be shaping my perception now just like I know my current experiences will have an impact on who I will become, which really isn't becoming at all, it's simply a continued state of being. A continuation of that thing we call the present. A continuation of now.

This realization has helped connect me with a lot more of my own past and help put in perspective some of the things that I never seemed to be able to shake and attitudes and thought patterns I still have no real explanation for. But what of feeling any sort of connection to family in the sense of being a continuation of a story of the blood that has passed down to me? Well, some strange things have happened recently. To explain one of them, I first have to tell you that I really don't like watches, or even clocks for that matter.

I've always had a very good internal clock. I can usually feel the time and I'm usually accurate within fifteen minutes. For the last year, though, I've been wanting a watch. I don't like most modern watches, though. They're way too big, or too flashy, or have too many features. I just want something that tells me the time. I also don't like to have to change batteries, and I have a love for great workmanship. In other words, I wanted a vintage watch. Something made when pride in workmanship still meant something real. There's something about a truly mechanical watch that's just appealing to me. So I started doing the research and keeping my eyes open for a vintage watch within my price range that really appealed to me. I just wanted something simple and efficient. I never seemed to find one. Then today I was talking to my mom about wanting a vintage watch and she tells me she has her father's old watch. I was really surprised. She's been lugging it around for over twenty years. Within a few minutes, she had found it and gave it to me. It's a smart Wyler Swiss made military-style vintage watch from the WWII era, exactly what I'd been desiring. It's a beautiful example of functional craftsmanship. The more amazing thing is that after a few winds, this 60+ year old watch with a 17-jewel mechanical timepiece started right up and is keeping perfect time. If not for some slight wear you'd think the thing was brand new.

My grandfather died when I was very young, I have few memories of him. Even when he was alive, he was battling several physical ailments, including cancer. He lived a hard life. When I look at this watch, I can almost see him. I wonder if he had it when he was in the Philippines as a Marine during World War II. I wonder if we stood on the same ground, separated by sixty years, when I made my own trips there. I'll never know but, looking at this watch and admiring its workmanship (as I suspect he did too), I think I do know. Suddenly, today, I had a remarkable connection to my grandfather, a remarkable connection to the past. One, I suppose, that was always there waiting to be discovered.