Sometime in 1978 one of my very best friends and I decided we had had enough of our parents telling us what to do. We started gathering items for an apartment of epic consequences. Some sweet avacado green lowboy club chairs, a coffee/end table with the obligatory semi-hidden compartment for our "collectables" and whatnot, AND a sweet Dr Pepper clock given to us my one of the soda salesmen for the theater chain we worked for.
Well some months passed and we realized that our intitial treefort was just not going to happen. Most of this stuff ended up in my apartment with my wife some years later. My buddy always gave me crap over the clock in my place (even in my first home's kitchen). "That's part mine you know..." I would hear from him.
"Yeah, I know...get over it" was my usual reply.
When i bought the newer house we live in now, no one was more interested and happy for me than my buddy. Shortly thereafter he was diagnosed with cancer and left us a little over a year or so later. Six months before he passed I had given him the clock and told him to not be so dramatic, he could have had it earlier if he had wanted it so bad. That was our sense of humor. I sat with him in his final month watching a USC basketball game on TV. I hate basketball and he knew it. It was however his favorite sport and he was always really good at it.
He told me the clock was in the garage and for me to take it when he no longer needed it. It has a mojo to it that only two people in the world truly understand. One of them is gone.
After 14 years it is back on display in my office at the house. Sorry it took me so long to put it back up to enjoy buddy. I hope you're happy now...