i might be wrong.

Pocketwatches first came into being in the 1600s. They were technically invented nearly a century earlier, but were boxy and worn around the neck (see: William Jonathan Drayton Junior).

It was not until the 20th century that timepiece miniaturization became relatively inexpensive, even moreso with quartz movement. Wristwatches became commonplace.

Miniaturization was top of mind. The Dick Tracy comic introduced the two-way wrist radio. Naturally, as cell phones shrunk to manageable sizes in the late 1990s, some wondered if this was the future of the telephone…and the wristwatch. Consumers and businesses alike.

Some even tried to produce models in the early 21st century. But no one really wants to wear this around. Or this. And that’s the best they’ve got.

We have moved back to the pocketwatch. Wristwatches are disappearing as that classic gift from father to son. Twenty years ago, no one left home without one. Now, the time of day is your phone’s screensaver.

The Dick Tracy dream might have seemed feasible before SMS and mobile Internet took off, but there are too many expectations and not enough space. And that’s why time is, once again, in your pocket.

Rep. Earl Blumenauer (D-OR), on DC during this epic winter:

A city that was designed for travel by foot and horses loses some of its charm with modern traffic congestion. A deep snowfall is the perfect antidote, as it adds beauty, muffles sounds and discourages automobiles. The broad streets and sidewalks reveal their grandeur when covered with snow instead of cars.

Saturday evening at dusk, just after the week’s first gargantuan snowstorm had abated, my wife and two kids and I had a magical walk down Connecticut Avenue to eat dinner at our friends’ place. Only a handful of cars came by. Dogs were cavorting off-leash. Without engine noises, you could hear the pleasant patter of other pedestrians. People paused to watch the sunset.

Other old-fashioned niceties have emerged, too: impromptu visits from neighbors, meals lingered over because there’s no place else to go, an ephemeral sense of community that passes even between strangers on the street. As the accessible world has shrunk, it’s also become more pleasant.

I’ll be fine if the thaw doesn’t come right away.