A Love of Clocks

I have a love for clocks of all kinds. I don't just love them because I repair and restore them. I don't just love them because my father before me loved them. I love the fine crafstmanship that most antique clocks bear. I love their history and the thought of the many hands that have touched them and the many eyes that have gazed at them during their lifetime. I love the peaceful and relaxing sound that the make, a nice steady tick tock that reminds us time rules, time flys, and we are here but for a short while and should enjoy life and be happy making the most of our time. I love the sound of chimes that some clocks make as their tiny hammers hit the chime rods on cue to produce a melody like St. Michael, Whittington or the famous chime of the Westminister clock in London whose largest bell is known World round as "Big Ben" I love the cheerful happy sound of a cuckoo clock as the cuckoo joyfully sings his call to announce the hours and possibly music, dancers and other types of animations come to life about the clock. I love the accuracy of these man made marvels that take the power of gravity or a wound spring and transfer that power into a measurement of time itself. Clocks grace a home or office wall with their Timeless charm and simplistic beauty. Clocks have a life of their own and they seem to bring life to the room that they occupy. They remind us of a time when life was simpler or at least seemed that way. I recently recieved a clock that was saved from destruction for my Birthday. It is a rare clock made by a man named Riley Whiting around 1810 in Conneticut. Riley lived from 1785 to 1835, a mere fifty years and he only made his clocks for around twenty five of those. It's movement is all handmade from wood. Even the gears are made from wood I speculate from some of the first trees cut in the American forests. The clock came to me from Ohio so during it's life it traveled from the hands of Whiting in Conneticut to the West probably by wagon. It is two hundred years old now and still running. This clock should be in a museum now but it almost ended up in a dumpster. How many lives has this clock seen come and go. Sometimes I wonder if this clock could talk what kind of stories would it have to tell? Would they be good memories or bad? I'm sure each antique clock I encounter has seen it's share of hard times, watched life and death go and come, encountered joy and sorrow. So in a way clocks have a lot in common with people in my opinion. Sure they tell us what time it is, how many hours we have left in this short day we are in at present but are they really saying more to us. I think they speak of our mortality and remind us of the fact that tomorrow is promised to no one. Yesterday is History...Tomorrow is a Mystery...and Today is a gift that's why it's called the Present!!