THE CUCKOO SINGS AGAIN

• 
  

 

          John’s grandparents were married in the early 1900s and one of their wedding gifts was a cuckoo clock. John inherited the clock from his father. When it came to our house, it smelled so badly of cigarette smoke John relegated it to the garage for a while to air out. Then, it came inside and we had to accustom ourselves to the “noise” this clock makes.

          On each quarter hour, a little quail comes out a little door and chirps/chimes. First for the quarter hour, then the half hour followed by the three-quarter hour and finally, the hour. At the hour, it is immediately followed by the cuckoo who comes out his door and cuckoos and chimes however many hours it is right then.

          At some point at least several decades ago, a friend of John’s who had attended the clock repair school at Northgate State took the clock and did whatever repair was needed at that time plus, he cleaned the entire outside. We had no idea the grape decorations were shiny gold nor that the numerals and hands were made of bone and an off-white color. It was amazing really.      

          Jump ahead another decade or more and the clock needed another repair. I searched around and found someone, but John wasn’t going to let just “anybody” have his clock. The repairman had to come to our house. Enter a young man from Uzbekistan. His name is David and he was suitably impressed with John’s clock and John was suitably impressed with him. David took the clock away and returned it a couple of weeks later all fixed and ready to chirp/chime/cuckoo again.

          I don’t remember how long it was after that a young boy was caught trying to hang from the chains on the clock. His mother used to come to our house and cut the entire family’s hair. John wasn’t here when it happened. He’d had his haircut and gone off to his Lion’s Club meeting. AJ caught the boy. Initially, John didn’t seem especially upset, but he was never one to actually show his feelings. He wrote this kid’s mother a letter and she hasn’t been in touch with us since.

          It was David to the rescue. He was appalled by what had happened, but was able to make the proper repairs. This repair was followed by another one when  John tried to correct the time by pushing on one of the bone hands and broke it. David could not find a replacement so he carefully repaired the hand and gave strict instructions about NOT EVER touching the hands like that again.

          Each night and morning, John would pull the chains and wind the clock. It is supposed to be a one-day clock where you only pull the chains once; however, I think the clock needs to hang in a higher location for that to happen. When John died, I attempted to keep the clock going. At some point in time, I didn’t wind it and the pinecone weights ended up on the floor and the clock stopped. I wound it and tried to get it back to the correct time without success. So, for most of the time John has been gone, the clock has been silent.

          Not only do I miss John, but I missed the sound of that clock. I decided in December I would figure out how to get it to tell the correct time without touching the hands. I think I was well on my way by Christmas day. When I left for brunch, I had not wound the clock. When I came home, the pinecone weights were all on the floor and the center chain had disappeared up into the inside of the clock.

          Determined to make the cuckoo sing again, I called David over the New Year’s holiday. I wasn’t sure he would remember me or John, but he remembered John very well and how much he loved that clock. Last Thursday, I took the clock in to David and he (amazingly) fixed it while I waited. I’d never seen the inside and when David took the back off, I was astounded at all the gears and connections and stuff I couldn’t begin to identify that reside inside. David told me several times as he worked that he was so sorry John had passed and that he remembered how much John loved his clock…perhaps those memories were why David didn’t charge me for the fixes, i.e., bringing the chain back out and setting the time.

          When David was finished, he gave me strict instructions and made me promise I would have my son (the intended recipient of the clock when I’m gone) come and mount it back in its place. In addition, he made me write down the order of tasks we were to perform to bring the clock back on line. I’m including those here so AJ can look back and find the instructions should they be required.

1.     Gently place the clock on the wall and make sure it is level.

2.    Carefully place each weight on a chain.

3.    Add the pendulum.

4.    Wait until the time shown by the hands on the clock and then push the pendulum.

David also said we should never pull the weights up flush with the bottom of the clock. We should always leave a couple of inches (even with the bottom of the leaf decoration) of chain when winding.

AJ was here yesterday and he/we carefully followed David’s instructions. We laughed about the last time AJ did this when John was alive. John kept giving AJ direction and fussing at AJ while he was trying to connect the top piece. Ah, those memories are so great. AJ left well before it was time to push the pendulum, but I set the alarm clock so I’d be sure to make that push. I also put up post-it notes that say, CLOCK, to remind me to pull those chains until it becomes a habit.

At 4:00 pm, I pushed the pendulum and the ticking began. The quail did its business each quarter hour and at 5:00 pm, the cuckoo made his entrance and sang away. Since then, the clock’s noise has brought me joy and comfort. John hasn’t returned, but the sound of his clock has…I’m so grateful.