Clocks
16/06/25 02:55
We have a wall clock that we received as a gift many years ago. A couple of AA batteries power it and will go an amazing amount of time between battery replacements. The current batteries have been in it for over five years, and I don’t know how long they will last. When our house is very quiet, without the sounds of conversation, the furnace, and other appliances, I can hear the steady tick of the clock from my desk, even though the clock is in another room. The mechanism in the clock makes the sound every second, tick, tick, tick.
I am excited, however, about the sounds of other clocks. Our two antique clocks have been in the shop for cleaning and are ready for us to pick them up. The clock shop is closed today, and we aren’t sure which day we will drive down to the ship to pick them up, but I’m eager to have them back in our home. Both clocks have been in the family for three generations. I don’t know their full stories, as they came from my wife’s side of the family, but they are beloved objects in our home. The older of the two is a mantle clock with two weights, one to power the clock, the other for the chime. Technically, the clock doesn’t have a chime but a mechanical hammer that strikes a spring. It needs to be wound every day. Winding the clock is an evening ritual in our home. A key is used to crank the weights back to their position at the top of the clock, from which they drop bit by bit until they reach the bottom 24 hours later.
The other clock is a wall clock. I can remember that clock in the home of my wife’s grandparents. It will run for a week on each winding. It has springs for the mechanism and the striker. It takes a bit of finesse to know how highly to wind it. It is also very picky about being level. I keep a small bubble level in the clock to check it each time I wind it.
Winding clocks is a relic of the past. As the battery-operated clock demonstrates, powering a timepiece takes very little energy. Furthermore, there are a lot of clocks in our house that don’t require attention. The clocks on our stove and microwave declare the time in bright LED displays and only need attention when the power has been off. We have watches that have rechargeable batteries. We place them on their chargers in the evening, and when we put them on in the morning, they have enough energy to display for our waking hours. They are a concession of recent years. We got these watches after experiencing heart rhythm problems. They have heartbeat monitors that alert us to arrhythmia. Before obtaining these watches, we wore watches powered by batteries with accurate quartz movements that would run for more than a year before needing a battery replacement.
I haven’t developed the habit that I’ve noticed in most people younger than me. They use their phones as their primary clocks. They pull out their phones like a train conductor consulting a pocket watch to check the time. I’ve been wearing a watch for 60 years or so. Holding up my left wrist is so automatic that I don’t think of consulting my phone to tell the time.
From time to time, we talk about our antique clocks. We received them at different times as generations passed in our family. When they were offered to us, we accepted them with joy and with them the responsibility of having them cleaned and adjusted when needed. Finding a technician who can properly service antique clocks gets harder each year. Getting to the clock shop where our clocks are being serviced is a 45-minute drive one way. The shop is so busy that you have to make reservations to bring the clocks to the shop and wait months for the work to be completed. The shop owner has a younger apprentice so that the skills may be passed down to another generation.
However, we wonder what will happen to our clocks when we no longer need them. It’s hard to imagine either of our children wanting them. Our grandchildren are too young to know what they might want in their homes, but antique clocks that have to be wound probably aren’t high on their list of desired furnishings. I assume that clocks like ours will eventually become museum pieces, though there probably are more old clocks around than museums need.
For now, however, I am not worrying about what happens to the clocks years from now. I’m just excited to have them come home. It will probably take me a few days to get used to them, developing a routine to make sure that they are properly wound at the right times, adjusting them for accuracy, and adjusting myself to the sounds they make. Soon, however, their ticking and chiming will once again become part of the sounds of our home to calm our spirits and reassure us that we are in the right place. I don’t mind the sound of the battery clock in the other room, but I will be grateful for a bit louder timepieces. All of those clock sounds are absent from the homes of our children. It will be interesting to see whether or not the clock sounds will make it difficult for grandchildren to sleep when they visit. I suspect they will quickly adjust to the sounds. They already know that grandma and grandpa’s house sounds different from their homes.
Johnny Cash wrote a song about his grandfather’s clock. The lyrics to that song speak of a clock too big for a shelf that stood on the floor. Our old clocks aren’t that big, and they had been running for a lifetime before we were born, so they don’t match the lyrics to the song. And, unlike the clock in the song, I hope that when our time has ended, someone in a new generation might find pleasure in their sound and in the process of winding them.
I am excited, however, about the sounds of other clocks. Our two antique clocks have been in the shop for cleaning and are ready for us to pick them up. The clock shop is closed today, and we aren’t sure which day we will drive down to the ship to pick them up, but I’m eager to have them back in our home. Both clocks have been in the family for three generations. I don’t know their full stories, as they came from my wife’s side of the family, but they are beloved objects in our home. The older of the two is a mantle clock with two weights, one to power the clock, the other for the chime. Technically, the clock doesn’t have a chime but a mechanical hammer that strikes a spring. It needs to be wound every day. Winding the clock is an evening ritual in our home. A key is used to crank the weights back to their position at the top of the clock, from which they drop bit by bit until they reach the bottom 24 hours later.
The other clock is a wall clock. I can remember that clock in the home of my wife’s grandparents. It will run for a week on each winding. It has springs for the mechanism and the striker. It takes a bit of finesse to know how highly to wind it. It is also very picky about being level. I keep a small bubble level in the clock to check it each time I wind it.
Winding clocks is a relic of the past. As the battery-operated clock demonstrates, powering a timepiece takes very little energy. Furthermore, there are a lot of clocks in our house that don’t require attention. The clocks on our stove and microwave declare the time in bright LED displays and only need attention when the power has been off. We have watches that have rechargeable batteries. We place them on their chargers in the evening, and when we put them on in the morning, they have enough energy to display for our waking hours. They are a concession of recent years. We got these watches after experiencing heart rhythm problems. They have heartbeat monitors that alert us to arrhythmia. Before obtaining these watches, we wore watches powered by batteries with accurate quartz movements that would run for more than a year before needing a battery replacement.
I haven’t developed the habit that I’ve noticed in most people younger than me. They use their phones as their primary clocks. They pull out their phones like a train conductor consulting a pocket watch to check the time. I’ve been wearing a watch for 60 years or so. Holding up my left wrist is so automatic that I don’t think of consulting my phone to tell the time.
From time to time, we talk about our antique clocks. We received them at different times as generations passed in our family. When they were offered to us, we accepted them with joy and with them the responsibility of having them cleaned and adjusted when needed. Finding a technician who can properly service antique clocks gets harder each year. Getting to the clock shop where our clocks are being serviced is a 45-minute drive one way. The shop is so busy that you have to make reservations to bring the clocks to the shop and wait months for the work to be completed. The shop owner has a younger apprentice so that the skills may be passed down to another generation.
However, we wonder what will happen to our clocks when we no longer need them. It’s hard to imagine either of our children wanting them. Our grandchildren are too young to know what they might want in their homes, but antique clocks that have to be wound probably aren’t high on their list of desired furnishings. I assume that clocks like ours will eventually become museum pieces, though there probably are more old clocks around than museums need.
For now, however, I am not worrying about what happens to the clocks years from now. I’m just excited to have them come home. It will probably take me a few days to get used to them, developing a routine to make sure that they are properly wound at the right times, adjusting them for accuracy, and adjusting myself to the sounds they make. Soon, however, their ticking and chiming will once again become part of the sounds of our home to calm our spirits and reassure us that we are in the right place. I don’t mind the sound of the battery clock in the other room, but I will be grateful for a bit louder timepieces. All of those clock sounds are absent from the homes of our children. It will be interesting to see whether or not the clock sounds will make it difficult for grandchildren to sleep when they visit. I suspect they will quickly adjust to the sounds. They already know that grandma and grandpa’s house sounds different from their homes.
Johnny Cash wrote a song about his grandfather’s clock. The lyrics to that song speak of a clock too big for a shelf that stood on the floor. Our old clocks aren’t that big, and they had been running for a lifetime before we were born, so they don’t match the lyrics to the song. And, unlike the clock in the song, I hope that when our time has ended, someone in a new generation might find pleasure in their sound and in the process of winding them.
