GRANDPA’S CLOCK
The experts from Antique Road Show would not be impressed. It is old, but not valuable. It’s casing is hand-made, but not crafted by re-known artisans. It is my great-grandfather’s clock. Not A great-grandfather clock, tall and erect with swinging pendulums and melodious chimes. It is MY great-grandfather’s clock, small and hand-made, sitting on a mantle in a farmhouse outside Searcy, Arkansas watching the lives of one more generation. I didn’t know the history of the clock until after Daddy died. Maybe the story had been told, and I was too young to hear. Or maybe it just wasn’t as exciting as other stories of Daddy’s life. My dad was a great storyteller. As a child, I had to determine which of his stories were true, which were sheer entertainment, and which were something between the two. Many were shared as we prepared cucumbers to sell to Bird’s Eye, or as we shucked corn in the barn. I think he knew that entertained workers did a better job than bored kids. I ...
