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 have confirmed that during depression years he really did eat a lot of oatmeal, but he may or may not have thrown chicken feed at his high school English teacher. And there is no historical proof that his cat died saving the townspeople from a catastrophic fire.  

I do want to believe the turning signal story. Before cars were equipped with turn signals, it was expected that the driver would put his arm out the window, bend up from the elbow to indicate a right turn, straight out for a left turn and down for a stop. The oral tradition in my family is that my Grandpa Vidal built a wooden arm that he operated from inside the car so he wouldn’t need to expose his arm to bad weather. 

But about that clock. 

Aunt Ethel has confirmed that my Great-grandfather Brown worked with wood. Daddy said he made a beautiful wood case for a battery-operated clock so that it could sit on the mantle in their living room in Brownsville, Texas. 

Daddy inherited that clock and prized it for many years, eventually passing it on to Joe. 

The last time I visited my brother in Searcy I saw the clock on the mantle in his living room and I thought of the five generations that clock has seen as it ticked away the minutes of our lives. 

We live in a time where social media has provided us with plenty of urban legends and historical narratives. But the moral of this blog is – tell your family stories. Even when they may or may not be true. This my favorite quote from the movie “Secondhand Lions.” 

Sometimes the things that may or may not be true are the things a man needs to believe in the most. That people are basically good. That honor, courage, and virtue mean everything and that power and money mean nothing. 

Thanks for the clock, Grandpa. 

 

BONUS FEATURE – Click the link below if you want to enjoy a very young Johnny Cash singing “My Grandfather’s Clock.”

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K0o8A4RccUY