Art In The Park - 90 Day Essay Continues

COVID has made going to the museum very, very challenging.  Luckily, there are still some outdoor venues available.

We've lucked into some warmer than usual weather here in the Boston Metro area these past months.  Winter is definitely coming, but it has been nice to get out and enjoy a few last days before the cold and snow arrive.

The castle-like building in the background is part of 
the deCordova Sculpture park and Museum - as is this -

Courtesy of Wikipedia

It is a beautiful park-like setting, in Lincoln, MA.

Art is a funny thing. While it is certainly something you can study - both how to create it and how to evaluate it, there really aren't the same sets of rules found in other pursuits and subjects.  Put another way, whether it's good or not is entirely up to you, the viewer/experiencer.

Beauty is all around us, you don't have to go all the way to a museum to experience it, you just need to spend the time.

Make Time To Help Your Neighbors - 90 Day Essay Continues

Now on a typical Saturday, you would usually find me and the Executive Publisher recuperating from the rigors of the working week on the sofa, catching up on Columbo reruns -

But this past Saturday, I had the very real pleasure of sharing my time and energy (along with some amazing folks) to help my neighbors.  Now as many brand managers know (because I am constantly putting the touch on them for donations), I work for a non-profit organization that provides support for folks in need (low income, homeless, recently arrived to the US) known as NSCAP - North Shore Community Action Programs.  My particular role is as the Director of Adult Education and Workforce Development.  In a nutshell, we provide English language and jobs skills training to give folks the skills they need to enter the workforce. But we are a bit different in that we also put a heavy emphasis on soft skills (resume writing, interview skills, dress for success), as well as robust job placement assistance.

And in a perfect world?  That would be plenty ; )  But we are living in extraordinary times, and this Saturday found me helping out with the pop-up health fair/COVID-19 testing event that we hosted -

A lot of local partners gave of their time and resources to help - the event was organized by the Peabody Rotary, with huge support from North Shore Medical Center, North Shore Physicians Group, No Child Goes Hungry, The YMCA and Citizens Inn Haven From Hunger.  So a big shout out and tip of the Tempus Fugit hat to everyone who came out.  And yes, I availed myself of the free COVID-19 testing and am happy to report a clean bill of health.

Over the past 8 months, time has taken on a whole new meaning for all of us. For Wendy and me? I think we appreciate it more, we savor it more. We're not in a hurry.

Enjoy your watches, and enjoy your time - don't just spend it, share it!

On The Wishlist - 90 Day Essay Continues

Now in all honesty, this was more on a reader's wishlist, but once I got a look at it, I have to be honest it "shot to #1 with a bullet!" on the Henki radar -

Courtesy of Meister Singer

This is the Metris Bronze Line from MeisterSinger.

Now I realize that this is probably going to trip you out, but I do not know everything about every single watch out there.  And in fairness to the reader, they get the credit for pulling my coat tails on this one.  I love the shape, the color play, the size (a much more realistic 38 mm in diameter), it has reasonable water resistance at over 200 meters - that is presuming that convertlive's conversion from bar to meter is accurate - 20 Bars = 203.95 Metres of water.

Courtesy of Meister Singer

But more than those things, I have to give a tip of the Henki hat to the reader who expanded on the idea that the bronze case will collect and display its own "memories" as it is worn for 90 days and beyond.  

So as we try to "give the people what they want", at least when they are kind enough to contact us, here are the pertinents -

Movement
Automatic: 

ETA 2824-2 or Sellita SW 200-1
25 jewels
28800 Semioscillations per h – 4 Hz
Date display
Power reserve 38 hours

Case
Bronze case with 6 screws
Diameter 38 mm
Height 10.3 mm

Crystal
Domed sapphire glass with magnified date

Sundays - 90 Day Essay Continues

Sundays. Every culture views Sundays differently. When I lived in Japan back in the early 90s, you could shop on Sundays, but you could not take money out of a bank ATM. When Wendy and I moved to Portugal you could do very little except go to church, or a restaurant. Once the "Hyper-Mercado" opened, then suddenly you could not only shop, but see a movie on Sunday as well. When we moved to Finland, Sunday was still very much a day for doing pretty much nothing. The only store that might be open was the Kioski (literally, kiosk). You could get some soft drinks, newspapers, magazines, some snacks, etc. Things began to change, and I seem to recall that by the time we moved to Helsinki you could actually shop at Stockman's (big, fancy department store) on a Sunday.

This Sunday morning we discovered that one of our dressers had given up the ghost and it was time to saddle up and look for a replacement. The US does not tend to have the same sort of "Sunday Hours" that a lot of other countries have. And truth be told, I am not 100% sure how I feel about it. There is something to be said for a day that NOBODY works, but in this day and age, I am afraid those days might be long gone.

Our luck was in as Manzel was open, and we found just the piece for us. Manzel offers furniture ethically sourced and crafted from reclaimed teak. And as anyone who has seen my rather bright and electric collection of watches (and blazers, ties and trousers) will affirm - Wendy and I walk to our beat in terms of aesthetics. 

Now ordinarily, you go to buy some furniture somewhere off the highway, some big box in a strip mall with bad lighting and a sales force trapped in ill-fitting polyester "team member" outfits, slogging it out under flickering florescent lighting, telling small children to get their dirty shoes off of the sofa/chair/mattress. This is made more awkward when the children in are in their 30s and refuse to put their face masks on, but I digress.

While we were wandering the floor, something odd caught my eye -

Yes, gentle reader.  This is a Peugeot automobile that is probably older than most of you reading this. While I would not call it mint, I would say it was in gently used condition.

A few rows of furniture down the way, there was a Mercedes convertible which was certainly nice enough, but didn't really catch my attention beyond passing.

But then, I saw something that stopped me dead in my tracks.

What is in hazy focus (like many of my memories of 1985) is the Corona name plate.  Yes, a 1977 Toyota Corona.

It as June, 1985 and my father and his new wife had just moved to Jackson, TN. Jackson is not exactly what would have been termed a "public transit friendly" city back then. So whether I liked it or not, I was required to purchase a used car. In fairness, my father provided $100 towards the car, and co-signed a $1,500 loan. My stay in Jackson lasted all of about 2 weeks when it became abundantly clear to one and all that this was not going to work out, so I packed all of my belongings into that 1977 silver (truthfully, faded stainless steel hued) Toyota Corona, and pointed it's snout north towards Oberlin, Ohio. 

That car was well-loved and enjoyed for our short term together. Until one fateful December evening when my recurring roommate, Vince HAD to borrow it to drive about 30 miles to Cleveland to watch the Mr. Olympia contest in a movie theatre/convention center.  It was a snowy, icy night, and I should have said no, but I figured as he was older, he knew what he was doing. Long story short? He made it to the Mr. Olympia showing, and he made it back. My Toyota Corona was, sadly, forfeit to his overwhelming desire to see grown men in posing pouches all oiled up. He managed to rack it up on an overpass when he braked too sharply and first ran into another car, then acquainted the rear end of my Corona with the front end of a pick up truck. So if any students at Tiffin University are reading this, do NOT let Professor Moore borrow your car for any reason!  It will only come to grief.

Seeing this sun-shiny yellow goodness really brought a smile to my face. And truth be told? I am not really much of a car guy, so this is saying something.

And after a fun day of shopping and reconnecting with your (somewhat) misspent youth?

TACOS!

Because let's be honest, NOBODY hates tacos!

To quote that other great commentator on the watch business Feris Bueller who opined in 1985 -

'Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.'

Don't just enjoy your watches, enjoy your time!

 

Rockport, MA - 90 Day Essay Continued

A little bit of Henki trivia.  My aunt and cousins lived in Rockport, MA when my sisters and I were growing up in Oberlin, OH.  Several Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays were enjoyed, not to mention a few week long jaunts during the summers.  It is safe to say that up until I was 13 I could probably navigate that route blindfolded.  

Ohio to Pennsylvania to New York (the part of the trip that seemed like it would never end), and finally the last "sprint" to get across Massachusetts and up towards Cape Ann.  A 13 - 15 hour trip that was usually punctuated by 2 - 3 full scale fights amongst the kids, several emergency stops for the dog, no small amount of cursing from my father, and enough Ho-Jos stops so that the thought of fried clam strip or candy cane ice cream would cause nausea.  

Shamelessly borrowed from the worldwide infoweb

My aunt and uncle (later just my aunt) owned an inn which still stands, although now has been converted to two (I am guessing good sized) condominiums. Plenty of skinned knees and elbows were endured, as well as more than my share of lost teeth (which might still be turning up in the back yard) more than 40 years on.

One of the unexpected treats about moving to the Northshore nearly five years ago has been the proximity to my second home town.

Curious to relate, my Aunt Judy is something of a legend in the area. I have had more than one occasion, striking up a conversation with a perfect stranger in Boston, finding out that this person went to Rockport High School, and mentioning that my aunt taught home ec. and chemistry and they immediately ask how Ms. Denham (in some instances Mrs. Higgins) is doing?

Back in 2018 - 2 friends, Judy and Tony, Wendy, the Executive Publisher, and Yours Truly

Well, if "lobster night 2018" was anything to go by, she's doing fine and attracting new followers.

They say that you can't go home again, but if you're lucky, and you have the "time", you can find home again.

There is another Rockport Essay coming up, stay tuned!  

And enjoy your watches!

A Bit About the Executive Publisher - 90 Day Essay Continues

Regular readers of Tempus Fugit will likely be able to positively ID the Executive Publisher enjoying some downtime.

Back in 2017 we had lost the previous Executive Editor (Celeste) who had been with us for a very, very long time.  She was one year old when we adopted her in Helsinki, Finland in 1999 and we brought her with us when we came back to the US in 2000. It was a bit of an odd shock. On the one hand, she was (we believe) 19 years old. And she had a very full, very well-lived life. But it left a hole, and it also marked the end of a living reminder that we had of our lives spent overseas (Japan and Europe).

So back in 2017 we went to the Northeast Animal Shelter in Salem, MA and looked around. And there were all sorts of cats and kittens. Friendly, playful, happy. 

I went into a separate area and in a shrouded cage that nobody stopped at, there was a sign for a cat (Tabby / Calico mix) and unless you watched for several minutes, you would not know that there was a cat inside. Needless to say, I was curious. So I waited. Wendy finally found me as this extremely shy (and I suspect, quite untrusting and unhappy cat) slowly poked her nose out from behind some blankets, and very tentatively made her way to the front of the cage. She didn't hiss, and she didn't purr. And she looked at me, and sniffed my fingers with a slightly baffled expression.

An attendant came by and warned me to be careful, this cat was mean, and "fractious" (I had to look that one up too). It means -  1 : tending to be troublesome : unruly 2 : quarrelsome, irritable.

I stayed a little longer while Wendy checked out some of the other cats. And as none of the others particularly "jumped out" at us, we went home. But needless to say, this fractious Tabico had made an impression on me.

The next weekend Wendy asked me if I wanted to go back to see if she was still available. I don't know that we had really talked about her too much, but I guess whatever I had said, Wendy had picked up on.

So we went back. And Ginger (she had been mistaken for her sister Ginger) was still there, still cowering, still not too pleased. So I sat, I waited, I dangled toys. And Wendy and I agreed that Ginger (who we renamed Tallulah) was the cat for us. The shelter was worried that although we might think it was a great idea, that this was a difficult, angry, fractious cat. But my mind was made up. They struggled to get her into a carrier (bandages and Bactine were dispensed to the handlers), we completed the paperwork, and headed home.

We thought it would probably be months before she would let us approach her, but truthfully? Within a day or so she was approaching us, and within a week she had discovered the bed and was curling up at our feet. Within two weeks she was regularly hopping onto my lap. And now? We are inseparable. We tell people this story, and they don't quite believe it.

Looking back, it would be easy for me to say that I was right, and the shelter was wrong. But in truth? There was no way of really knowing for sure. 

I had a feeling, a belief that got stronger as time went by. And isn't so much of life like that? It's easy to be swayed by prevailing opinion, or scared off of an idea by others who might claim to know better. Well, this is a story with a happy midpoint, because in many ways this type of story never really ends. There really is no clock on it. Just a happy family.

And I would also say this about perception, and labeling. How often do you think that perhaps the initial perceptions, or labels applied are not based on a fair "sample"?  We are all quick to judge, and ready to assume. Believe me, it is very true in this business, but also in our everyday lives. And you know what? It limits us. There is so much opportunity out there if we just open our eyes.

Enjoy your watches.