Ride The Wave / Passing of Time

The Inevitable Ticking of Time Cannot Be Slowed

It’s a truth that the old man has died…

Photo by Nguyen Mazic on Unsplash

Like some magical Tardis, the grandfather clock faithfully ticked the minutes to the future. It was polished to a shine and reflected both a past of stability and a future of endurance.

Tick, tick, tick… never missing a moment of the life that the household lived.

As the weights were reset every week, there was a moment of reflection that rang out in their rattle, a sound that quietly announced in a musical clinking that all was well. Attention was being given to this moment so that every other moment would fall into place without concern.

Ninety years without slumbering, Tick, tock, tick, tock, His life seconds numbering, Tick, tock, tick, tock…

Where did the grandfather clock go?

What generation decided that it no longer fit into the décor of their lives?

Time became a silent commodity on sleek watches, small and compact; unobtrusive and yet shouting for attention. Not just a time keeper but also a message centre, a game distraction, a GPS demanding which path to take, and a status symbol of some egocentric self-worth.

Time now hurries to keep up with our life instead of us slowing down to mark its gentle rhythms.

We feel stressed and anxious, rushed and hurried.

Families don’t sink into overstuffed armchairs with a book for entertainment or a piano to express the music of their hearts.

Nobody sits in contemplation and listens to the echo of the grandfather clock that tick tocks like a heartbeat — the centre and soul of a home. Children and housewives don’t pause to count the deep echoing chimes of each passing hour.

It’s unfashionable to decorate with the hand-crafted wholeness of oak that mirrors the beautiful intricacy of life.

Tick tock. Although many of us glance wistfully back to better days when life was slower and simpler, the Tardis to take us back in time is nowhere to be found.

Most of us know what a Tardis is but I didn’t know what the acronym stood for. This time machine and spacecraft from the British science fiction series Doctor Who, is a fictional Time Lord technology that stands for “Time And Relative Dimension(s) In Space”

It seems to me that the grandfather clock is a symbol of the passing of tradition and time. They are certainly not commonplace in homes as they were when I was a child.

According to a google search, both Antique and Vintage clocks are highly sought after by collectors around the world. Perhaps it is like the resurgence of film or vinyl records for the niche of people who are called to by-past days?

The best clocks can apparently sell for many tens of thousands of dollars. Like any item everything comes down to the age, maker (craftsmanship), quality of the movement, materials and intricacy of design, as well as the overall look of the case.

I’m sure the value is also very dependent on the love that was bestowed on this important piece of the family home down through the generations.

The grandfather clock is best remembered and celebrated in the popular song I referenced:

“Grandfather’s Clock.” It was written by Henry Clay Work in 1875.

My grandfather’s clock Was too large for the shelf, So it stood ninety years on the floor; It was taller by half Than the old man himself, Though it weighed not a pennyweight more. It was bought on the morn Of the day that he was born, And was always his treasure and pride; But it stopped short Never to go again, When the old man died.

Chorus:

• Ninety years without slumbering, Tick, tock, tick, tock, His life seconds numbering, Tick, tock, tick, tock, It stopped short Never to go again, When the old man died.*

In watching its pendulum Swing to and fro, Many hours had he spent while a boy; And in childhood and manhood The clock seemed to know, And to share both his grief and his joy. For it struck twenty-four When he entered at the door, With a blooming and beautiful bride; But it stopped short Never to go again, When the old man died.

Chorus:

My grandfather said That of those he could hire, Not a servant so faithful he found; For it wasted no time, And had but one desire, At the close of each week to be wound. And it kept in its place, Not a frown upon its face, And its hand never hung by its side. But it stopped short Never to go again, When the old man died.

Chorus:

It rang an alarm In the dead of the night, An alarm that for years had been dumb; And we knew that his spirit Was pluming for flight, That his hour of departure had come. Still the clock kept the time, With a soft and muffled chime, As we silently stood by his side. But it stopped short Never to go again, When the old man died.

[embed]Here’s the tune if it’s not familiar to you!

My story was inspired by John Pearce 🌻🌈🦋🐬🦅 and his article that I enjoyed:

[embed]Lonely Future On the march of the machinesmedium.com

I would like to thank Kyle L. and Dorottya Becz who have always supported my writing on Medium. Their publication is the home of Tide Talk, The View From Here, and Everyday Heroes. It is indeed a place to share stories of Hope, Happiness, and Harmony.

[embed]Write for Ride the Wave Share Your Stories of Hope and Happinessmedium.com