Time After Time

Patek Philippe: Begin your own tradition, price on request.

In the 19th century, an entomologist discovered that the oak beams of Oxford's New College dining hall were infested with beetles. As the dining hall was founded in 1329 there were concerns that such large beams, up to 45 feet in length, were no longer able to be sourced, until a junior fellow suggested consulting the college forester. The forester confirmed that Oxford did, in fact, own property with trees that included some oaks planted 400 years before. Though it's apocryphal that these trees were planted for this very purpose, it was common that 14th-century foresters planted oaks, hazels and ash for construction purposes, and would harvest the hazel and ash about every 25 years while the oaks were allowed to continue growing. The presence of these trees shows the long-term thinking we used to have, thinking that today only survives in the minds of commuters left waiting for the Eglington Crosstown LRT to open.

Somewhat similarly, consider the luxury watch brand Patek Philippe and their advertising campaign, "You never actually own a Patek Philippe. You merely look after it for the next generation." Often in their ads, an adult is seen engaging with a child in some meaningful activity like playing chess, solving a puzzle or laughing in a carefree manner. Isn't life grand? What they are trying to sell you is a watch worth more than most cars with the idea that this device will outlive you and you can pass it along to the next generation. Again, someone is out there thinking of the world continuing beyond their lifetime.

Now picture keeping a smartphone or a smartwatch for 50 years and passing it down to some poor kid.

It's more likely that this smartwatch hasn't been smart for 47 years. It probably isn't even a watch anymore, just a small wrist-sized brick of dead technology. Most phones or smartwatches are expected to be replaced every 2-3 years. Even more complex products like automobiles only have 4-year leases. While I see and have owned and driven cars near the 20-year mark, it's not something desired by car companies. We live in a world driven by consumption, and that consumption fuels growth. Yet, we can't grow our economy forever. At some point, everyone you could sell a watch, a phone, or a truck to, will have one. The term "planned obsolescence" was meant to expedite the replacement cycle. The term itself became obsolete and replaced with "sustainable practices" intended that we should think about how a product can be created, sold, used, and then recycled into a new widget that is again created, sold and used. When an economy grows, even at a stable, conservative rate, it eventually reaches a point where it can't grow further and that's when you see markets collapse or "correct" themselves. Then it starts all over again. That's Capitalism.

When my own Apple Watch went dark, I thought of how expensive it was and how it hadn't hit the three-year mark. Somehow, I'd become hopelessly dependent on it. For a few days, I wore an older watch (by "older" I mean about 7 years old) that is also a fitness tracker and was surprised to find myself looking at it to see when my next meeting would be, or what the weather would be like the next day, or to read a recently received text message, and maybe, occasionally, to check the time. It didn't have any of these capabilities other than the time, and a stopwatch, but I hadn't realized I had become so dependent on my smartwatch for things I lived without for years. Why should a watch track my heart rate, tell me I'm in a loud environment, count how many flights of stairs I have walked or allow me to pay for a bus ride? Worse than losing a few trinkets of data, I felt if I did an exercise without recording it in some way, it was like I hadn't done it all. This makes no sense. My heart would still feel the benefits of the exercise. My lung capacity would still be improved. My muscles would still ache. Why was it so important to me to record it? Recording my health had become my personal type of conscious consumption.

Imagine designing something you hope will last 100 years and be passed down to your grandkids. The Apple Watch is not that. Yet I don’t know if I will ever design anything that will last that long or be so admired that it would go out of fashion, stay in use then come back in fashion again like some Art Deco typeface or 1960’s Hi-Fi system. I work in software. It is ethereal. You absolutely know it when you go to a Website that feels out of date. Perhaps not well known to most people is that before you have used a piece of software, several versions have already been overwritten or discarded. It's ethereal before it is even released or sold.

I don't know why I'm thinking of my mark left on this Earth. Unfortunately, my carbon footprint, small as it may be by Western standards, will probably be my most indelible stain. That's depressing. It might be that I'm only thinking of this now because of my age. I'm closer to the end than the beginning, though to be clear, I'm trying to put off that ending as long as possible (why do you think I exercise at all?). In the city of Toronto there are very few remnants of what the place was like just a couple of hundred years ago, so why do I think or care if I'll leave anything behind (except for all the plastic containers and ketchup packets I have lying around)?

In truth, I do know why I'm thinking of all of this. It's simple. A project I've worked on for four years was recently cancelled. Then two-thirds of the team that worked on it were laid off. Meanwhile, my siblings and their spouses are retiring. I've put over 33 years into my working life and surprisingly suddenly it feels like it has been a waste of my time. There's not going to be anything left to even prove I did anything at all in those 30-plus years.

It's not so much that I want to be remembered, but I want to know that in some small way, I was useful. I'm not hoping for a legacy, as Marcus Aurelius, the philosopher-emperor mused, "legacy" is not for you, but for other people to decide. Even those who remember you will eventually die. How you live in the present and what you do for others is much more important. He might have said not to worry about what you leave behind, so don't plant oak trees to make replacement beams for some future building, but plant them now so that others, even those that come after you, can enjoy them. That's the legacy of a lifetime, especially for someone else's.