I wrote quite some time ago about Papa and his cuckoo clock, the one that he always told me thought I was cuckoo. What I didn’t say at the time was that whenever I hear the term “grandfather clock”, I always think of that cuckoo clock. Even today, when I am forty, my mind instantly pulls up the image of that clock, and I can hear so plainly that bird, and Papa’s chuckle as he sets me up yet again. I literally have to remind myself that most people mean a tall clock that stands, regal and majestic, striking the hour with dignified tones and not a clock that hangs on a nail screaming cuckoo at you when they speak of grandfather clocks. My response to the phrase is completely tied up with my memories of Papa, completely separate from what the words really mean. I hope you can understand what I am trying to say, it’s coming out rather muddled on this end. let me try again. You know how you have heard people say they when they catch a whiff of Old Spice or whatever, they think of their dad or granddad. For me instead of a smell, it is the phrase “grandfather clock.”
Now, once I push past the memories, I do enjoy looking at grandfather clocks for what they actually are: finely crafted time pieces, each with a personality and character of it’s own. My aunt had one like that. It’s also tied with memories, LOL, but I will avoid going there today. Instead I will tell you what brought these clock-ish memories to the forefront of my mind. I saw a reference to 1-800-4clocks.com. Isn’t it funny the triggers we have? It’s a bit nerve wracking really, to think that the things I do could create such an impression on someone that someday they would have to make a mental adjustment when they hear a certain phrase, that it could be so tied up in who and what I am that the phrase would mean something totally different to them because of me.
But back to the clocks themselves: I saw on their blog some information about a test you can take to find out which grandfather clock is right for you. It’s called the Grandfather Clocks Personality Profile. I’ve left a comment to ask where the profile is, but I wanted to post about this NOW, and if you looked at my desk and saw the gargantuan stack of stuff I need to blog about you would understand why putting it off might mean you’d never get to read about it.
And also, I am impatient, so I had to just look at the site and see if anything struck my fancy. “Struck”, haha. So punny, that’s me. Just like Papa. I clicked on traditional, because, well, I’m a traditionalist at heart, I guess, and there I did indeed find something: the Reagan, by Howard Miller. Is anyone among us shocked that the clock I prefer is the one named after a Republican? I thought not.