D e s e r t E x p o s u r e
September 2009
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Anyone who's ever crossed the border for some bargain shopping — or who's ever had a favorite maiden aunt — will identify with Barbara Agte's charming short story. |
Aunt Meg's Wish List
Sometimes, if you believe it's a Rolex, it's a Rolex.
By Barbara Agte
Katherine and a group of women were eating popcorn, drinking margaritas, and telling tales about watches. After a story about a Swiss watch, Katherine said, "I have a watch story about my Aunt Meg.
"Everyone in our family loved Aunt Meg because she was kind and giving and extremely frugal in a lovely sort of way. She always said two things: 'Never throw anything away another person might use, and never buy anything new if you can find it in a thrift store.' She used the tiniest scraps of cloth to make colorful strips she'd crochet into beautiful rugs. Whenever she'd bake anything, she'd take whatever she made to two or three people who lived down the street. And every Christmas or birthday — or for no reason at all — people in the family would get either a handmade gift or something she'd found in a thrift store. Almost everything she had she'd found in a thrift store or at an auction or at a garage sale. We loved the gifts she gave us primarily because they were from her. Some of the things she gave us were really odd, but if we didn't know what to do with them, we'd pass them on. (I actually still use three potholders and one rug she gave me as well as a black beaded bag I carry when I dress up.)
"Anyway, one year when I was living in a border town, Meg came from her home in Idaho to visit and surprised me by asking me to take her into Mexico to shop. We drove to the border, and when Aunt Meg saw the two big parking lots with many cars in them, she suggested we park my car on the US side because she thought it would be safer.
"Well, we weren't in Mexico very long when a man carrying about 30 watches on a metal ring about the size of a basketball offered to sell her a watch. Aunt Meg looked at the watches and asked if he had watches for women. The man pointed to a tiny shop, and Meg followed him into the store. She was only in the shop about 10 minutes when she rushed out and said we had to go home. I tried to explain to her that there were many more shops and maybe we could even have lunch, but she wouldn't listen. She was really worked up. She had her purse tucked tightly under her right arm and was shaking both hands and repeating she had to go home right away. (I thought she was sick so I asked if she felt faint or had to find a bathroom.) Aunt Meg said she was fine but that we just had to go home.
"As we were crossing the border and going through customs, the official asked what we were bringing back from Mexico. I hadn't bought a thing and said so, but Aunt Meg told the customs agent she'd bought a watch. The official didn't ask to see the watch; he just waved us on.
"When we got to the car, I told Aunt Meg I really had to know why she wanted to leave Mexico. Meg said, 'It's the watch. That man got his prices mixed up. He sold me this watch for 10 American dollars. And look at it. He's made a terrible mistake. You can't even think about buying a watch like this unless you are a terribly rich person. I've seen them in fashion magazine ads for $5,000. Probably they cost more than that. Usually the ads don't even give prices. I had to get away before he discovered his mistake and came down the street after me to ask for the watch back or for more money.'
"Of course, I told Aunt Meg the watch was probably just a cheap piece with the Rolex name glued onto the face. And I rambled on telling her about an article I 'd read about such watches. But she said that she'd always wanted a Rolex and finally she actually had one.
"Years later the watch stopped, and Aunt Meg took it to a jeweler who said the watch only needed a new battery. According to her, the jeweler was a nice little bent-over old man who said he had plenty of time to put in a new battery. After he changed the battery and gave it back to her, he charged her only $5. Aunt Meg said she told him she never believed a battery for such a good watch would only cost $5, and the little guy said, 'My dear lady, I hate to tell you this, but this watch is not a Rolex.' Meg said she told the man he didn't know his watches. He'd probably never even seen a Rolex. He lived in a small town.
"Once Aunt Meg was visiting my sister and suddenly realized her watch was gone. She cried and cried before she asked my sister to help her. Together they went to the town plaza and put a note on the blackboard saying she'd lost the watch and would give a reward to anyone who would find and return it. They gave my sister's address. Well, miracles happen, and the same afternoon a tall kid wearing black pants with about 40 zippers brought the watch to my sister's house. The watch was still running, but the band was no longer attached on one side. Meg started to cry again and gave the kid three silver dollars she dug out of her wallet. When Aunt Meg got home, she wrote to my sister to say she'd found another pin to hold the strap in place and fixed the watch herself.
"About five years later, Aunt Meg died in her sleep. My sister and I went to her home in Idaho to make arrangements. Aunt Meg's house was dark and empty and creepy. The kitchen table was set for one with a cloth and a plate, silverware, a glass, and a cup and saucer. There were two small pots and a tea kettle on the stove. All around the place there were stacks of boxes marked with various names. There was one small filing cabinet with a few files; one was labeled 'My Funeral.' There were official-looking papers in the file saying she'd made and paid for funeral arrangements with the mortuary in the next town. Clipped to the papers was a list of what she wanted to wear when she was buried. To the list, Aunt Meg had attached notes explaining where we could find the items and some words about each one.
"Aunt Meg wanted to wear a two-piece peach silk crepe dress with a Mainbocher label, hanging in her closet in a cloth garment bag. Her note said she'd long ago bought the dress — for 25 cents — at a thrift store in Casper, Wyo., where they'd obviously never heard of Mainbocher. Under the dress she wanted to wear a silk chemise, some lace-trimmed silk tap pants, a silk satin slip she'd bought at an auction, and some silk stockings. All the pieces were in a Sax Fifth Avenue box in her bottom dresser drawer. Her shoes were to be the peach satin shoes wrapped in a piece of mauve velvet fabric on the closet shelf.
"The last item on her list was 'my Rolex watch,' which, her note said, was wrapped in a paisley silk scarf in the drawer of her bedside table."
Barbara Agte is a special education social worker for Deming Public Schools. She is also a costume designer who lives and works in Columbus with her partner, Tim, two cats and a rather new dog.