The Old Clock on the Mantle

Yesterday I brought home something from my dad's house it took me a long time to remove from its 'spot' in the house. It wasn't bolted down or anything - my heart kept stopping me from taking it down from the mantle over the fireplace in the kitchen. It's a marble clock that's been in the family for over 100 years; it hasn't worked in decades. My dad spent time over the years trying to fix it, finally giving up at some point in the late 1990s. He spoke of it often; maybe it couldn't be fixed because it was so old.

Not one to ever give up on anything, when my dad told me he couldn't fix the clock, I figured nobody could. After all, with his mind, if he couldn't get it to work, odds were pretty good that this clock was never again going to run as a timekeeper. Unless the old parts were removed and new ones put in... but my dad wasn't into transplants.




So on the drive home, my son and I hear the chimes going off. "That's weird, that clock doesn't work." I'd said. KC and I laughed that my dad must be just letting us know he was there with us.

Once home, I set the clock up on the kitchen island, nestled inside the protective canvas bag I had put it into for the car drive. The chiming continued, but with more zeal - so we took the clock outta the bag.

It was actually ticking, but it was ticking at a pace that once the timer was put to the right time it went way too fast... double speed. Perhaps the ride over had jiggled a piece into the right place, I wondered? But still not the exact 'right' place, as the time was so far off.

As the hours went by, and the time sped up, and the chimes went off at all odd sorts of wrong hours, like 8:33 and 9:40 and 11:02 and then three minutes later at 11:05 just to be funny it seemed, I figured the old clock was just happy to be around people again and I went to bed.

I woke up very early this morning (3:30 a.m. *groan*) and as I came out into the kitchen, the clock said it was 9:00, but I knew it was just being silly.

With no idea what I was doing, I opened the back of the clock and took one of my dad's small flashlights and looked around at the mechanical pieces. I saw dust, so I got a few q-tips and cleaned the pieces off... I kinda figured this would be the extent that I actually tried something to perhaps get the clock working. After all, my dad couldn't fix it, so I'd have to be nuts to think I could.



I came back to my computer, but got this feeling like I wasn't done trying, like I had something to do with that clock.

It felt like my dad was guiding me - sorta like his spirit, in death, figured out the simple, tiny thing he hadn't done in his attempts to fix the clock. Cuz I sure as heck don't know anything about fixing clocks! So, kinda baffled as to why I would even be trying, I went back to the clock and put the flashlight on again and held a q-tip in my hand and sorta sighed, because I felt so clueless. "I can't fix this, dad." I thought to myself. "It's ok if this clock is broken, I still love it and will keep it clean."

I looked inside at the parts - some I recognized, like the magnetic coil. I knew what that was, and how it functioned. My dad had explained some of the other pieces over the years and how they made a clock keep time... but a lot of the things he taught us kids, at the time and age he taught us, just seemed to be goofy pieces of fluff info that wouldn't much matter in life.

Boy, was I wrong about that. Even the smallest things my dad taught us played a gigantic role in how I think.

So I'm gazing at the internal structure for a bit when I notice something small that seems outta place. I even say out loud "what is that and why isn't it pushed in a little further so that the piece is flush?" Nervously, because I wasn't sure if I was about to break the clock even more than it was, I took the q-tip and pushed the piece in. This is where it gets kinda incredible... first I hear my dad's voice (not out loud, just sorta inside my head) say 'ok, there, good.' I go to the front of the clock and look at my dad's grandfather's clock near the door to set the time. I give the open backside one more look and the swingy thing is swinging and the magnetic coil is vibrating. I gently nudge the magnetic coil down a little bit to be more aligned with the bottom circle thing of the swingy thing. All looks good, but I've no clue still, and figure at some point the clock is going to get all whacky and off time again.

I come to the computer and do my morning games of cribbage, spades and scrabble. No chimes emit from the clock, so I figure I didn't actually fix anything.

Well, after my games I walk over to check the time - it's perfect. I'm kinda stunned. My eyes get kinda watery in disbelief, but I'm smiling so big it feels like sunshine is in my mouth. I run to everyone's bedrooms, where sleepy Sunday males are still laying around, and I let them know I fixed the clock. Then I call my grandpa to let him know.

I still haven't figured out the chimer stuff, but there's two keys, one big, one little, and one is for the two bigger turny things and the little one is for a tiny turny thing above the number 12 and I think my grandpa might be right that it is for the chimes. So I just wound it up because the chimes were going off like crazy all yesterday and it mighta needed a winding.

No matter how crazy this makes me sound, I'm gonna type it: my dad fixed that clock, through me. That thought makes me happy, so that is always what I'm going to think. My dad is with me. He's with a lot of people. Helping fix stuff, still.

Will the clock keep working? Time will tell... :D