My father’s watch is a gold Omega Seamaster, a talisman of him, to me. I wear it on special occasions, such as trips. I wear it when I read my writing. I wear it when I want him with me. How silly, I know. I’m simply detecting the ulterior value of a few sacred objects in my life — rank materialism, of course. What would Dad think? I’m sure he’d understand because there are three of his possessions that evidently held similar value to him.

It’s a mechanical watch; self-winding, from the era when watches were serviced by watchmakers, as I have done with this one. It comes from the land before the electric quartz movements and throw-away timepieces. It has a heft that my other, cheap watches don’t. It is not luminous. It has no function but timekeeping, not even day or calendar functions. Big hand, little hand, second hand and a diminutive ticking sound, a heartbeat.

I doubt he purchased it for himself, nor that his father bought it for him — unaffordable for Gramps. It was elegant and an extravagance. I suspect my mother’s father gave it to him on a special occasion of some kind. A promotion? A transfer? A birthday? Not an expense he could afford for himself, as his father-in-law could. That grandfather gave gifts as affirmations of accomplishment or arrival. Dad had, evidently, achieved something worthy of reward.

His colleagues teased him when he wore it tilted on the side of his wrist, making time checks easier, more immediate. Photos confirm the habit. Dad was economical like that. He was frugal with movements and gestures. He was focused. Tick tock.

I can picture him, even while typing, turning his wrist just slightly to see the dial. I can picture the watch going with him on his many international trips, to various interviews and meetings, or just out to lunch at the diner. If only the Omega could speak. But then, clearly it does, at least to me, now.

I had both of our initials engraved on the back of the watch to identify it in the lineage of family keepsakes and treasures — the chain of custody. Sentimentality is its greater worth and a future generation need only read this to pick up the thread of thinking and feeling about our cherished possessions.

It’s not unlike his monogram ring in that respect. Only 10 karat gold, with a tiny diamond above the middle initial, and inscribed with the date: 1948. That would have been a gift from his parents for high school graduation. He wore it at his wedding six years later; I can see it in the photos.

No doubt, this gift was significant for this couple, who appreciated external signifiers of striving and achievement, but were not affluent. Their only son had done well — the family’s first high school graduate. His accomplishments included being a superb classical trumpeter and aspiring broadcaster on a Buffalo radio station; on his way toward journalism. He gave the ring to me when I was in eighth grade. Perhaps he felt it was a holdover from his youth, or just didn’t fit any longer. I loved it. I still wear it on occasion out of affection and remembrance. It travels with me.

To the Omega watch and ring I add a Mont Blanc fountain pen, dad’s initials engraved on the pocket clip, with another origin mystery. Luxury self-indulgence was not his habit. While he did buy his suits (off the rack) at Brooks Brothers, in his casual wear he had an uncanny predilection for loud plaids, corduroy, white socks and bargain footwear that belied the overall classy look. He was good-natured about his sons’ teasing. I intuit a thrift pang of some kind. He came from a different sartorial tradition — mostly.

I’ve pondered the pen’s origin. I’d like to think that because he had achieved a lot in his professional writing he thought he deserved an iconic pen. His handwriting alone was worthy of a Mont Blanc. Or was it a gift? I can imagine the pleasure he took in using it, particularly signing his name in his almost Cyrillic script. I’d know that hand anywhere — the rolls and loops beyond the tight cursive of his generation’s schooling. It was improvisational, and expressive of pleasure in words and sentences and signing.

How much we are the possessions we prize. How much we are their prized possessions and patrimony.