Today I want to tell the “clock” story. The chimes fill our house every fifteen minutes or quarter hour and then the finale is the ringing of the hour when it completes the cycle. The mantel clock has a special spot sitting atop a wardrobe in our master bedroom now. We don’t have a mantle in our home, but when I was younger I did. In my parents’ home, we had a beautiful eight foot mantel above a brick fireplace. It was literally the heart of the home with the clock front and center.
I remember when we brought the clock home back when I was around nine years old. Mom and Dad had spotted it in a little junkyard shop window in a small town called Chaffee. The next step was a clock mechanic, you know, someone that can fix old clocks. It took almost one month, but I remember the day we brought the clock home. It was similar to the experience of bringing home a new baby from the hospital. We set it in its special place and ooohhhhed and ahhhhhed as my mom dusted it off.
It had an actual pendulum that you had to start and a special key that you put in each special hole in its face to wind up. I remember mom and dad twisting the key twice a week like “clockwork” so to speak. Then the way it could talk and sing was so special. It filled up the family room every fifteen minutes. Every minutes the melody would last a little longer and each hour could be figured out from any room in the house….you just had to count out each time. That first night it kept waking me up, but soon after it didn’t. I grew to love that old clock even more.
Now I hope my children remember the traditions of the old clock. My husband has taken over the duty of winding it up each week in our new home. As I hear it and see its face every morning, it takes me back to another time of my life and reminds of the special times of the present. It is a comfort to have it still today.