Dad's Rolex

When the generosity of a gesture eclipses the actual gift

When I was a kid, my dad would take me to breakfast at a pancake house called The Big Apple. And nearly every time we left, as we were walking back to the car, he’d realize that he left his keys and Rolex watch on the table, and send me back in after them.

Why would anyone take their watch off at breakfast? I still don’t know the answer to that question. But if you know my dad, you don’t investigate these things. You just let the man’s madness and hilarity flow.

My dad had bought the gold “President” Rolex as a 40th birthday present for himself. He’d worked his ass off for 15 years on the road as a salesman, was finally making some real dough, and had just gotten divorced from my mom. He deserved a little gift.

Over the next 10 years of my childhood and adolescence, through dad’s divorces and different houses, that watch was the constant. No matter where we were — restaurants, a new home office, vacations, etc. — that Rolex was always sitting on a desk or table.

Many years later, even after Dad had stopped wearing it, his watch somehow remained the central symbol in my mind of my childhood memories of dad.

I don’t even like Rolexes. BMW’s either. They’re both finely crafted machines, to be sure. But they always seemed like cliches to me.

But about 15 years ago, I made one request to Dad regarding what he would put in his will: Please leave me the President. I don’t care about anything else, but I want that watch.

Now and then, I’d tease Dad:

“Did you put the watch in the will?”

“Yeah, yeah. I did.” (eye roll)

“I bet you don’t even know where it is!”

“I know exactly where it is.”

“Ok, where?”

“Don’t you worry about where!”

About a year later, I drove to visit Dad in Palm Springs and play golf for a few days. I arrived late in the afternoon, and settled into my room as Dad and Susanna were getting ready to go out to dinner with another couple. Before they did, Dad popped into my bedroom, asked me who I’d bet on for the night, and then presented me with a green box. What the hell?

“Well, I figured, why wait until I die? Might as well give it to you now!”

I opened the Rolex box and pulled out the President. I was overwhelmed. What a gesture. I guess he knew where it was after all!

A hug. A laugh. A fist bump.

Then I looked at the watch again…

“Dad, I could swear that watch had a gold face? This one is white.”

“No, no, it was white. They only have white faces for the President.”

“Okay.”

Dad and Susanna went out to dinner. I kept watching the game my basketball game… and looking at the watch. All of a sudden, I felt like Seinfeld in “The Pie” episode:

“Audrey, I gotta be honest with you. I'm a very curious guy. It's my nature. I need to know things. Not tasting the apple pie the other day, I can't get past it. You obviously like pies. You carry doughnuts in your bag, you're not averse to pastry. Surely you could see how such a thing would prey on my mind.”

I went online and searched Rolex models. I just had to know. And I found the one with the “champagne dial.”

Dad got home, came upstairs, and walked into my room. I asked him to sit down. I told him that I’m just really curious: Was this the actual watch? It didn’t matter, really. I was just dying to know. He insisted it was. Then I said:

“Dad, look at me. I was a reporter for many years, and that never dies. C’mon. Tell me the truth.”

He paused. Then he rapped his knuckles on the wooden arm of the chair, and said:

“Ok, so, I got a story to tell you.”

“I knew it!!”

I was laughing already. Dad explained that my brother had also asked for the watch, completely separate from my request — and that he’d already given it to him. So he went out and bought a brand new Rolex for me.

Now we were both cracking up. And I was still laughing the next day.

Dad asked me if I was going to wear the watch, and I told him no — I don’t even like Rolexes. It was a symbol. But I told him that the fact that he went out and sneakily tried to replace the watch for me was a far better gift than receiving the original.

I also told him that the next time we’re back in Chicago together, I’m giving him the watch to sell back. And he didn’t argue!

My Dad would be the first person to tell you that he was not a conventional parent in terms of teaching life lessons to his sons. But both my Mom and Dad did teach us by way of example that it is truly the thought that counts.

And that gestures of generosity speak volumes about a person.

MICHAEL GOLDEN is the cofounder of One Million Degrees, a national award-winning journalist and bestselling author. The Golden Mean is where he works to convert ‘hidden lessons’ into active wisdom.

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