Hi, Diary. Our mailman's real name is Edward Timm, Senior. Nobody I know ever calls him Edward Timm, Senior. It's always Ed. Ed doesn't smile much, but that doesn't mean he's upset. That's just Ed. Dad says Ed's the city's philosopher. That means Ed's a truth seeker. At least, that's how my Thorndike dictionary, student edition, defines the word. Ed also makes it his business to know everything he can about the people on his route. But I want to know more about him.
"Why don't you get upset when kids call you Ed, and not Mister Timm?"
Ed carefully rearranged his big leather bag which held a ton of letters and such. "Well, because Ed's my name. That's why."
If there's a group of us, we call out, "Hi, Ed."
"Hi, kids," he calls back. Ed's one of the nicest men you'd ever want to meet.
"Are you part frog?" I asked him once.
"Well, why do you ask?" He looked pretty serious to me.
"Because you kind of sound like a frog," I said.
That's the first time in my life that I ever saw Ed grin. The more I think about it, I'm certain he grinned. A grin isn't planned. It just happens. A smile can have nasty reasons behind it. Like the police officer who smiled as he gave Dad a speeding ticket. Dad wasn't smiling, though.
Ed's footsteps are steady. Always the same. Not fast. Not slow either. Just steady. Like Ed. In the summer, he wears a grey pith helmet just like the one Johnny Weissmuller wears in the "Jungle Jim" movies. Johnny used to be Tarzan in Tarzan of the Apes movies but he got older and fatter. Johnny couldn't be Tarzan anymore because he'd kind of look funny wearing that skimpy leather swimming suit with no shirt on. Glen Peterson explained it this way, "Jungle Jim's boobs are bigger than Jane's." I think Glen hit the nail on the head.
Ed's bigger than Johnny Weissmuller. So, he'd also look funny in a skimpy swimming suit. Just thinking about how he'd look makes me laugh. Whenever Ed lifts that pith helmet to wipe the sweat off his forehead with a handkerchief, we can see a head as bald as a billiard ball.
I suppose you're wondering why I'm telling you about Ed. But a diary can't wonder, can it? Anyway, here's why. A couple of days after I mailed my order blank for an Ingersoll pocket watch, I started to sit on our front steps and wait for Ed to deliver the mail. "Hi, Son." Thankfully, he doesn't call me carrot top. "Seems to me you're waiting for something that I might deliver. Am I correct?"
He's a truth seeker, all right. "Yes, I'm waiting for my Ingersoll."
"A what?"
"Ingersoll. It's a pocket watch. I ordered it from Monkey Ward."
"Well, you're talking about Montgomery Ward, aren't you?"
"Yes. The Ingersoll is kind of like my Grampa's Westclox pocket watch. But mine's going to be an Ingersoll pocket watch. And like Grampa's Westclox, the Ingersoll has a black face with green numbers and hands that shine in the dark. So, I don't have to turn on the bedroom light in order to see what time it is." Whew, that all came out at once.
"Well, when did you order your—? What's its name?"
"Ingersoll."
"Funny name for a watch, don't you think? It must be fur-in." I think he meant foreign.
"I ordered it last week. Friday, I think."
"Well, I think you're going to have to wait a couple more weeks for me to deliver you your—"
"Ingersoll."
"Yes, Ingersoll.
Ed dropped the mail in the slot, backed off the stairs to the sidewalk, and said, "Well, you have a nice day, now."
"Thank you, Ed. You, too."
And off he went.
The day finally arrived. Ed was grinning. "Hi, Ed. You got something for me?"
"Well, I sure do."
"Is it from Monkey Ward?"
"It surely is."
For the first time in my life, I watched Ed Timm take off his big leather bag. He actually removed it and placed it on the bottom step. Sitting next to me, he reached into the bag and said, "Now, let's see. Where is it? I'm sure it's in here." He looked in the bag and then looked at me. And then he looked in the bag and he looked at me again. Finally, he pulled out a little package. He read the address. "You are Master Gordon Hoffman, are you not?"
"Nah, I'm Gordy Hoffman."
"Well, then, this package from the Montgomery Ward company of Chicago, Illinois, might not be for you. Is that possible that you've been waiting all this time for your—""
"Ingersoll. Okay, I'm Master Gordon Hoffman." I reached for the package.
"Well, if you hold your horses, I'll open the package for you, Master Gordon Hoffman. Is that okay?"
"Yeah," I lied. I could hardly wait. And then, what do you think? Ed took his good natured, super extra, very careful time. Finally, he opened the package so very slowly and then showed me a little box inside that small package. "Ingersoll pocket watch," it read on the outside.
I pushed out both hands, palms up. "Here," I said, "let me have it."
"Well, now, won't you let old Ed open it for you? That way, we can see it together."
"Okay." I really didn't mean it. But I had better let Ed open it. He was bound to have his way. Grinning, he looked to me and then to the little box and then back to me and then back to the box, again. Finally. Finally. Finally, Mister Timm, Ed, opened the box. And there it was. The most beautiful shiny pocket watch in the world with its black face and green hands and green numbers, I mean numerals. And super shiny chrome metal back. He took my watch out of the little box and held it in one of his big hands, the size of a gorilla's hand in a Jungle Jim movie. "You have to remember to wind it up the same time each day. Can you remember that?"
I nodded. I wanted my watch.
"Let's wind it up," he said. As far as I know, "Let's" means "let us," but that's really not what Ed meant. He pointed to the nob on top of the watch. "Know what this is?"
"A nob."
"Well, it's called a stem. Can you remember that?"
"I sure can. Stem."
He wound the stem. "Now, you have to be careful in winding this extra special pocket watch of yours. When you can't wind anymore, stop. Don't wind it one bit more. Do you understand?" Ed placed the Ingersoll to his ear. "It has a good sound." He pushed it to my ear. "Tick tock tick tock." I nodded.
Ed pulled a chain attached to a belt loop on his grey trousers, and out came a pocket watch. "This is my watch. I've owned it for years and years." With much care, he showed me a white face Westclox. "Now, when you put your watch in your pocket, always put the all-metal back facing the front of you pants. Metal, out. The glass will be facing your leg. Got it? Metal, out. Glass in.”
“Metal out. Glass in.”
“Well, now, I'll set the time for you, based on the time my watch says, and my watch is very accurate. See how you have to pull out the stem?"
Nod.
"And when it’s the correct time, you push the stem down. Got it?”
Another quick nod. I wanted my watch.
“if you promise to wind it up every day and not too hard, mind you. And then if you put it in your pocket with the metal facing out and the glass facing in, I'll hand this watch to its rightful owner."
This time, I grinned a grin that matched Ed's grin. I couldn't believe what I was holding, a real live, tick-tock Ingersoll pocket watch. I stood.
"'Hold on, Master Gordon."
"What?"
"You forgot something."
"Oh, thank you, Mister Timm. Ed."
"No, that's not what I meant, but you're very welcome, anyway. What I meant is this—" He took a deep breath and reached into a different pocket and pulled out the most wonderful, sparkling pocket watch chain in this whole, wide world. "This is for you. We wouldn't want you to lose that—"
"Ingersoll."
"Pocket watch of yours, now would we?"
"For me? You bought it for me?"
"Well, let me clip it on to your watch." Which he did. "Now put it on your belt loop like mine." He pointed to his loop.
"Okay." I swear I had ten thumbs but I finally attached the chain to my .trousers’ loop. I then put the watch in my pocket—metal out, glass in.
"Well, that's a perfect picture," he said. "Take good care of that—"
"Ingersoll."
"And it will tell you the correct time for a long, long time. Just like mine.” Ed picked up his bag and put the strap over his shoulder. He was still grinning as he turned and walked off.
"Thank you, Ed," I called out. I hurried to go inside the house to show Mother my watch. And my chain.
That night, with the light off and the sheet over my head, I gazed at my brand new pocket watch's glow-in-the-dark green numerals and hands. Plenty of times. They looked ever so good. I knew something. I didn't miss Grampa Frank so much anymore because I would forever own a part of him. In my pocket. Metal, out. Glass, in.
"Why don't you get upset when kids call you Ed, and not Mister Timm?"
Ed carefully rearranged his big leather bag which held a ton of letters and such. "Well, because Ed's my name. That's why."
If there's a group of us, we call out, "Hi, Ed."
"Hi, kids," he calls back. Ed's one of the nicest men you'd ever want to meet.
"Are you part frog?" I asked him once.
"Well, why do you ask?" He looked pretty serious to me.
"Because you kind of sound like a frog," I said.
That's the first time in my life that I ever saw Ed grin. The more I think about it, I'm certain he grinned. A grin isn't planned. It just happens. A smile can have nasty reasons behind it. Like the police officer who smiled as he gave Dad a speeding ticket. Dad wasn't smiling, though.
Ed's footsteps are steady. Always the same. Not fast. Not slow either. Just steady. Like Ed. In the summer, he wears a grey pith helmet just like the one Johnny Weissmuller wears in the "Jungle Jim" movies. Johnny used to be Tarzan in Tarzan of the Apes movies but he got older and fatter. Johnny couldn't be Tarzan anymore because he'd kind of look funny wearing that skimpy leather swimming suit with no shirt on. Glen Peterson explained it this way, "Jungle Jim's boobs are bigger than Jane's." I think Glen hit the nail on the head.
Ed's bigger than Johnny Weissmuller. So, he'd also look funny in a skimpy swimming suit. Just thinking about how he'd look makes me laugh. Whenever Ed lifts that pith helmet to wipe the sweat off his forehead with a handkerchief, we can see a head as bald as a billiard ball.
I suppose you're wondering why I'm telling you about Ed. But a diary can't wonder, can it? Anyway, here's why. A couple of days after I mailed my order blank for an Ingersoll pocket watch, I started to sit on our front steps and wait for Ed to deliver the mail. "Hi, Son." Thankfully, he doesn't call me carrot top. "Seems to me you're waiting for something that I might deliver. Am I correct?"
He's a truth seeker, all right. "Yes, I'm waiting for my Ingersoll."
"A what?"
"Ingersoll. It's a pocket watch. I ordered it from Monkey Ward."
"Well, you're talking about Montgomery Ward, aren't you?"
"Yes. The Ingersoll is kind of like my Grampa's Westclox pocket watch. But mine's going to be an Ingersoll pocket watch. And like Grampa's Westclox, the Ingersoll has a black face with green numbers and hands that shine in the dark. So, I don't have to turn on the bedroom light in order to see what time it is." Whew, that all came out at once.
"Well, when did you order your—? What's its name?"
"Ingersoll."
"Funny name for a watch, don't you think? It must be fur-in." I think he meant foreign.
"I ordered it last week. Friday, I think."
"Well, I think you're going to have to wait a couple more weeks for me to deliver you your—"
"Ingersoll."
"Yes, Ingersoll.
Ed dropped the mail in the slot, backed off the stairs to the sidewalk, and said, "Well, you have a nice day, now."
"Thank you, Ed. You, too."
And off he went.
The day finally arrived. Ed was grinning. "Hi, Ed. You got something for me?"
"Well, I sure do."
"Is it from Monkey Ward?"
"It surely is."
For the first time in my life, I watched Ed Timm take off his big leather bag. He actually removed it and placed it on the bottom step. Sitting next to me, he reached into the bag and said, "Now, let's see. Where is it? I'm sure it's in here." He looked in the bag and then looked at me. And then he looked in the bag and he looked at me again. Finally, he pulled out a little package. He read the address. "You are Master Gordon Hoffman, are you not?"
"Nah, I'm Gordy Hoffman."
"Well, then, this package from the Montgomery Ward company of Chicago, Illinois, might not be for you. Is that possible that you've been waiting all this time for your—""
"Ingersoll. Okay, I'm Master Gordon Hoffman." I reached for the package.
"Well, if you hold your horses, I'll open the package for you, Master Gordon Hoffman. Is that okay?"
"Yeah," I lied. I could hardly wait. And then, what do you think? Ed took his good natured, super extra, very careful time. Finally, he opened the package so very slowly and then showed me a little box inside that small package. "Ingersoll pocket watch," it read on the outside.
I pushed out both hands, palms up. "Here," I said, "let me have it."
"Well, now, won't you let old Ed open it for you? That way, we can see it together."
"Okay." I really didn't mean it. But I had better let Ed open it. He was bound to have his way. Grinning, he looked to me and then to the little box and then back to me and then back to the box, again. Finally. Finally. Finally, Mister Timm, Ed, opened the box. And there it was. The most beautiful shiny pocket watch in the world with its black face and green hands and green numbers, I mean numerals. And super shiny chrome metal back. He took my watch out of the little box and held it in one of his big hands, the size of a gorilla's hand in a Jungle Jim movie. "You have to remember to wind it up the same time each day. Can you remember that?"
I nodded. I wanted my watch.
"Let's wind it up," he said. As far as I know, "Let's" means "let us," but that's really not what Ed meant. He pointed to the nob on top of the watch. "Know what this is?"
"A nob."
"Well, it's called a stem. Can you remember that?"
"I sure can. Stem."
He wound the stem. "Now, you have to be careful in winding this extra special pocket watch of yours. When you can't wind anymore, stop. Don't wind it one bit more. Do you understand?" Ed placed the Ingersoll to his ear. "It has a good sound." He pushed it to my ear. "Tick tock tick tock." I nodded.
Ed pulled a chain attached to a belt loop on his grey trousers, and out came a pocket watch. "This is my watch. I've owned it for years and years." With much care, he showed me a white face Westclox. "Now, when you put your watch in your pocket, always put the all-metal back facing the front of you pants. Metal, out. The glass will be facing your leg. Got it? Metal, out. Glass in.”
“Metal out. Glass in.”
“Well, now, I'll set the time for you, based on the time my watch says, and my watch is very accurate. See how you have to pull out the stem?"
Nod.
"And when it’s the correct time, you push the stem down. Got it?”
Another quick nod. I wanted my watch.
“if you promise to wind it up every day and not too hard, mind you. And then if you put it in your pocket with the metal facing out and the glass facing in, I'll hand this watch to its rightful owner."
This time, I grinned a grin that matched Ed's grin. I couldn't believe what I was holding, a real live, tick-tock Ingersoll pocket watch. I stood.
"'Hold on, Master Gordon."
"What?"
"You forgot something."
"Oh, thank you, Mister Timm. Ed."
"No, that's not what I meant, but you're very welcome, anyway. What I meant is this—" He took a deep breath and reached into a different pocket and pulled out the most wonderful, sparkling pocket watch chain in this whole, wide world. "This is for you. We wouldn't want you to lose that—"
"Ingersoll."
"Pocket watch of yours, now would we?"
"For me? You bought it for me?"
"Well, let me clip it on to your watch." Which he did. "Now put it on your belt loop like mine." He pointed to his loop.
"Okay." I swear I had ten thumbs but I finally attached the chain to my .trousers’ loop. I then put the watch in my pocket—metal out, glass in.
"Well, that's a perfect picture," he said. "Take good care of that—"
"Ingersoll."
"And it will tell you the correct time for a long, long time. Just like mine.” Ed picked up his bag and put the strap over his shoulder. He was still grinning as he turned and walked off.
"Thank you, Ed," I called out. I hurried to go inside the house to show Mother my watch. And my chain.
That night, with the light off and the sheet over my head, I gazed at my brand new pocket watch's glow-in-the-dark green numerals and hands. Plenty of times. They looked ever so good. I knew something. I didn't miss Grampa Frank so much anymore because I would forever own a part of him. In my pocket. Metal, out. Glass, in.
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