The Haunted Clock

Just this last summer, great grandma passed away. You can find the details here and here.

One of the many treasures she passed down to her family was a wall clock, much like this one. It’s a charming piece, and actually fits in with the décor of our living room quite nicely, since it’s mostly antiques and heirlooms. Except for the stuff I brought to the relationship, which like all men’s stuff, should be relegated to the “Stupid Room” – except that my wife is very kind and actually worked my knick-knacks in with the scheme. She’s amazing like that.

But I digress.

We had the clock for several weeks before I finally got off my lazy behind and put it up. Like most projects, it was suggested to me right away, but was only implemented when my wife brought the tools and the stepladder into the living room. The message was unmistakable: “Put up the clock, already.” She never nags – she just removes all of my excuses. All righty then, up it goes.

The hanging of the clock required relocating the prints that were hanging there already. I had to haul out a much bigger ladder to do that, since these prints needed to move up the wall about six feet higher. Once I had moved the prints, I carefully hung the clock in its new location, prominently and proudly displayed on the back wall of the living room.

Then, on the quarter hour, it chimed ala The Westminster Palace clock tower. Beautiful.

On the half-hour, it chimed again. And at fifteen ‘til. And on the hour. And again on the quarter hour. Etc. Ad infinitum.

This delighted Michael. For at least the first three hours of the clock’s first operation in our home, Michael was enthralled by the chimes. Particularly the chimes on the hour, since after the melody is over, the clock tolls the hour: one clang for one o’clock, two clangs for two o’clock, three for three o’clock, etc.

It’s been hanging there for a couple of months now, and Michael hasn’t gotten over the novelty. He knows when the hour comes, because he knows the pattern. When the full melody is played, it’s the hour itself, and the clock will toll the hour.

And when that happens, he drops whatever he’s doing and runs into the living room to count the chimes. “One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven!” Then he comes running back into the room we’re in and announces the time. “It’s seven o’clock!”

Marvelous! This new addition has provided an amazing benefit: it has empowered Michael with the ability to know what time it is! And what’s more, he now recognizes the positions of the big hand and little hand for the hour, quarter, half and ¾. Wonderful! In an age of digital clocks, this boy will be one of the few who can read a dial clock, even one without numerals, and tell the time. I’d say, that’s a boon. The clock is a teaching tool.

Only problem is, the clock seems to be getting full of itself. It really likes chiming, and it won’t stop.

“Can we make it not chime all night?” My wife asked me. Hmmm… I think so, I said. I know there’s a setting on it to make it shut up at night. I think there is, anyway.

I opened the clock, found what I believe to be the “Shut Up At Night” switch, and set that. While I was at it, I adjusted what I believed to be the volume knob, so it wasn’t so loud. That night, at seven PM, we didn’t hear a chime. Ah, peace at last. Michael paid no notice to it. The hours marched on, and still no chime. Yay. Problem solved.

Then, at 2:15 in the morning, “DING! DING! DING! DING!” And so on throughout the wee small hours, and through the rest of the day.

Apparently this clock’s idea of “night” is between 7:00 PM and 2:00 AM. I’m not sure what demographic considers those the night hours. In all of my life I have never kept those hours. I don’t know anyone who would have kept those hours. I think even the Amish would blanch at being awakened that early.

And what’s worse, the chimes are louder than they were. LOUDER. I turned the volume DOWN, and it went UP instead.

It’s taunting me.

This morning, after my wife spent another very restless night and ended up downstairs on the couch at 2:30 AM, I was told that the clock needed to be silenced.

I fetched the stepladder, a flashlight, some pliers and a screwdriver and marched into the living room to subdue the beast. Opening it up, I searched for the “Be Quiet” switch. None to be found. I was sure there was one there the last time I looked. The evil thing has absorbed one of its switches. So instead, I turned the volume knob down as far as it would go. All the way. Off.

Done and done.

Satisfied, I put away my tools and the stepladder and rejoined my wife, to soothe her weary brow.

And at 6:15, it sounded again, as hale and hearty as ever: “DING! DING! DING! DING!”

I swear, I heard within those notes the clock mocking me: “You! Can’t! Stop! Me!”

Tonight, I’m going to show it the wire cutters.