My husband tells a joke about a farmer and a pig. I don’t really get the joke, but I like the punch line – “What’s time to a pig?”
What’s time to any of us? I thought about this recently when the new Apple watch was introduced. It looks very complex and expensive, but I had a similar reaction when the iphone came out, and now I can hardly live without my little magic device.
A digital watch or digital clock lacks the rhythm of big and little hands going around and around and pointing to the hours and minutes. I wear a $40 Timex watch that suits me. I only need to glance at it – not even read the numbers – to tell where in the day I am. My first watch was gold (probably not real gold), and I wound it every night before I went to bed. One of my mother’s friends told me never to wear it when I slept because if I did, lint would get into the workings and it would stop running. Now, I wear my Timex day and night and it only stops when the battery dies. My grandson Henry was looking for something to draw as a gift for his mother a year or so ago and I offered my watch. I’m not sure why he put the double watchbands on it, but I think it looks very cool.
“Henry’s Watch Drawing,” Henry Thomas Kennedy, pencil, 2013
I’m more aware of the dimensions of time and clocks when I visit my brother, because he’s a horologist. He collects and sells and repairs old clocks. His house and his workshop are alive with the ticking and tocking and chiming of hundreds of early American timepieces. He is doctor to many, many clocks. Some are as small as a box of Cream of Wheat, some as large as the Tower Clock at Yale University. He’s on intimate terms with their insides. I admire his expertise and his dedication to keeping the art of time alive. You can read more about him here.
Before electricity and batteries, many houses had some kind of clock. Tall clocks, Grandfather clocks, Mantel clocks, regulator clocks – all were made like works of art. My grandparents’ clock sat on the mantelpiece in the dining room. Keeping it running involved winding it regularly. I can’t remember whether or not it chimed. I think it did. But I know it ticked, and I know it was old. It gave an organic feeling to the house, and even when I got so used to it that I didn’t hear it anymore, it felt odd when it stopped – as though the heart of the house had stopped beating.
My grandparents’ mantel clock
The old clocks were not very accurate and would have to be periodically reset using the readings from a sundial. Most time was local time – dependent upon the position of the sun. When the family clock was the only timepiece in the house, its location and its appearance became as important as the time it kept. If you had to come downstairs to look at the clock in the parlor, you got clues to the time of day by glancing out windows, hearing other activity in the house, and feeling the temperature in the air. And many clocks also provided information about the phases of the moon, the days of the week, and the whimsy of the clock face’s painter.
Antique clock face
And there were tall case clocks with music boxes inside that could play as many as six different songs. Some of the more popular songs that marked the 12:00, 3:00, 6:00 and 9:00 hours were:
- The Raptur
- Maid of the Mill
- The Cuckoo’s Nest
- Banks of the Dee
- Handel’s Minuet
- Air by Handel
But my favorite is “Over the Water to Charlie.” Set to the lyrics of a Robert Burns poem about Bonny Prince Charles, this song has a lovely melody. When I hear it – maybe because my father was a Charlie – I picture my mother standing on the banks of Muddy River waiting for my father to come around the corner and cross the water to Whirlwind Hill.
On Wednesday: Outbuildings #2 – The Pig Pen
I think clocks speak to us in a special way. I don’t know whether it is the sense that they are alive, with a beating heart so much like our own, or whether it is their marking of the mysterious passage of time. I agree that the tick-tock and the chimes become a vital part of one’s home, and are sorely missed when absent. I have a tall clock with wooden works from the early part of the nineteenth century, given to me by my grandmother. Kirt did repairs on it once in its life and it has needed cleaning and other minor fixes over the ensuing years. The house is much too quiet, too still when the clock is gone. When it returns, the clock helps me to feel grounded and prompts me to take longer and deeper breathes more in time with its slow, steady beat.
I’m glad that you have that old clock. Things like that keep us connected to our past.
What about the cell phone – that magic device? Seems like I know so many young people who will never know the pleasure of a ticking clock, or even a simple Timex, but will know the exact time. I love Henry’s drawing of your watch.
I hardly ever look at the time on my phone. Even in the middle of the night if I want to find out what time it is I look at my watch. Habit, probably, but a comforting one.
I MET A VERY NICE MAN A LONG TIME AGO WHEN I WAS THINKING ON BUYING MY WIFE A SPECIAL PRESENT, A FINE, GOLD POCKET WATCH. I’M TALKING ABOUT A POCKET WATCH THAT BANKER’S AND BUSINESSMEN WORE BACK AROUND THE TURN OF THE CENTURY. I MET THIS MAN AT AN ANTIQUE/CRAFT FAIR. HIS NAME WAS ANDY OHR. I BECAME FRIENDS WITH THIS MAN AND WOULD AT TIMES JUST GO TO HIS HOUSE TO TALK ABOUT CLOCKS AND WATCHES OR ABOUT THE BRGINNING OF WALLINGFORD, CONNECTICUT. I BOUGHT A CHIMING CLOCK FOR MY PARENTS FOR THEIR ANNIVERSARY MANY YEARS AGO, WHILE I WAS JUST GETTING INTO HIGH SCHOOL. I SAVED MY ALLOWANCE, LAWN CUTTING MONEY AND ANY MONEY I EARNED TO BUY THIS CLOCK FOR THEIR VERY SPECIAL DAY. THROUGH THE YEARS THAT PASSED THAT CLOCK WAS ALWAYS PLACED IN A SPECIAL PLACE, AS THAT CLOCK TRAVELED ALL AROUND THE COUNTRY ALWAYS BRINGING A SENSE OF COMFORT WHERE EVER IT WAS. MY PARENTS HAVE SINCE PASSED ON, SO NOW THIS CLOCK IS MINE. IT WAS IN NEED OF REPAIR FROM YEARS OF BEING BUTCHERED BY SO CALLED CLOCKMAKERS, FROM OTHER PARTS OF THE COUNTRY, SO I BROUGHT IT TO MY FRIEND, ANDY OHR. HE SAID HE HAD A FRIEND THAT WOULD LOOK AT IT AND FIX IT TO THE ORIGINAL WAY IT WAS. AS IT HAPPENED, IT WAS REPAIRED BY KIRT CRUMP. I HAVE TO SAY A VERY SPECIAL THANK YOU FOR BRINGING BACK MY MEMORIES OF WHEN I GAVE THIS CLOCK TO MY PARENTS ON THAT ANNIVERSARY DAY MANY, MANY YEARS AGO. I ALSO MISS MY FRIEND, ANDY OHR FOR HIS FRIENDSHIP AND OUR TALKS ABOUT HOW HIS LIFE WAS IN WALLINGFORD GROWING UP. NOW THIS CLOCK SINGS LIKE IT USED TO WHEN IT WAS NEW. IT HAS THE MOST SOOTHING SOUND TO IT AS IT SINGS ITS EVERY HOUR AND HALF HOUR.
Thank you so much for this remembrance. And how nice to be reminded of Andy Ohr. I think his daughter, Karen, lives on Whirlwind Hill. My brother does help make the past come alive each time he makes one of these clocks sing again. I love the way you describe it. Thanks Brian