Road Trip Day
We couldn’t remember the last time we were able to make it to the Korean’s luncheon in Mankato that is held on the first Wednesday of every month. Dennis has made many good acquaintances with a common thread.
There were five of us wives in attendance as well. The business meeting follows Robert’s Rules of Order in fine fashion. What is happening is that the members are becoming fewer either by death or age prohibiting mobility.
After the meeting and the noon luncheon, Dennis and I continued on to St. Peter, another 10 miles up the highway. We were on a mission to take a clock to a business called “It’s About Time” in St. Peter.
When my parents moved a home onto property across from the homestead at a time when Minnesota State Highway #100 was expanding, homes that were condemned were sold for few dollars on the hundred. The home that they chose had a fireplace in it. That was not the main interest but . . . there it was. Dad was bound to have a mantel clock to sit upon his mantel. This was in the time of the early to mid 60s.
Dad passed away in the 90s, and in time Mom moved into an apartment in Hutchinson. Mom settled in to a one bedroom apartment.
At a time when my brother was going to move to Decorah, Iowa, they came for a visit. He left a cardboard box on the work bench in our garage. During the next week, I was walking past the work bench and spied the cardboard box that had written across it, “old clock.” Inside was Dad’s electric mantel clock. Sweet treasure.
I have enjoyed that clock in my sewing studio ever since. It had the West Minster chimes on the quarter hour and struck chimes on every hour. During this last winter I noticed it had stopped working. I unplugged it and when the correct time came around, I plugged it in and for a very short time it kept time and then stopped. It has been unplugged ever since.
The fellow in the shop today understood the emotional attachment. I had the clock to him in 2017 for repair. The coil within the electric mechanism would get so hot when he plugged it in today and it ran for a time, it was not good. His suggestion was to make it run on batteries. He didn’t know how much room there would be inside for the chiming. Even the face of the clock behind the glass front was so minimal, he didn’t know if there would be room for the second hand after the electrical install.
Ya know! In a perfect world our treasures would be the same decades after decades. Literally, they would be timeless. With the clock not being electrical, I can have it setting in the studio where my eye would catch it ever so easily. Without the chiming . . . I can hear it easily in my memories. How special that in this day and age, there is a fellow that knows it’s not all about perpetuating our throw-it-away world. When I get the phone call, I will be excited to have Dad’s clock back home.