It’s just a clock…

…and yes, I’m overly sentimental.

My grandfathers grandfather clock is now sitting in my house. Fitting right? Not only was it my grandfathers, but he built it.

As my mother and aunt have been going thorough my grandpa’s things, I’ve been rather fascinated to see how like him I am, and things he found cool, I do too. I now have a large number of his books on my shelves, with subject matter right up my alley. (I need to find time to do more reading than I struggled to find before.)

My grandfather built his house, built their first tv, and worked on and in radio for many years of his life. This clock is one of two he made and it is the less fancy looking of the two. It’s now in the entry of my home.

Once it landed in my entry, I started fiddling with the workings to try and make it tell time. It started lightly chiming… and then it hit me. This was the sound of being at grandpa’s house. So very strange for it to be the sound I hear while standing in my house. And how oddly comforting!

I’m sitting here analyzing the dynamic we had with my grandpa. He was German, came to the US as an 8 year old with his family, and all my life, visiting him only really took place in the living room of his home. It wasn’t until this last year as he was sick and dying that I saw his bedroom, and only a couple years ago that I saw his office. Being at his house was not a visit of play, nor was I raised to be rambunctious at someone else’s house anyway. Both of my parents ensured we had more than good manners at all times. I can see that upbringing has everything to do with who I am today, and I’m sure that having a serious German grandfather influenced me too. His wife, my grandma, died before I was born.

So this clock…

There’s a little gold plaque on the inside of the door engraved with: Handcrafted by, his name, and 1976. I’m sentimental with physical things, but for some reason, I feel even more sentimental over this clock because of the plaque and the fact it has ‘sound’ memories for me. I’m writing about it simply because of what it did to me when it started chiming. My house was suddenly different. His interesting books sitting closed don’t bring much more than a musty smell to my home yet, but this clock… it chimes and I am taken back in time, with his voice in my ears as clear as if he stood here.

Not the grandpa who was loosing his memory over the last 5 years either… The talkative grandpa who had much to say. The last couple years before he died in March were pretty silent ones from him.

I felt grateful to have the beauty of the clock given to me, I feel grateful anew to have the sound of it and him in my home.