My grandmother's clock

 

“My sister Nory ran off with one of them wild Cothran boys.” This was always said as part of another story. My grandma was a kid and her mother was sick. She had to take over most of the cleaning and cooking. At that point, these women seemed to disappear from the stories. 

Sometime between 1903 when Nora ran off and 1913 George Russell moved home. Carroll County Arkansas is where my grandma grew to adulthood, married, and raised her children to almost grown. 

It is also where her dad bought the clock. 

A man came to the house one day. There is some memory of his name being Mr. Clark. “Mr. Russell, I’ve been trying to sell these clocks, but no one is interested. I just know if you will buy one, other people will, too. You can take one and pay me later as you can.” 

The beautiful case shelf clock entered the family. After some time, my great grandpa declared it should be passed down through the generations to the youngest daughter. Of course, that was my grandma. 

When my grandparents lost their farm during the depression, that clock was carefully packed up and moved to an uncle’s farm in Oklahoma. When that farm was lost a year later, it made the precarious trip to California. 

Grandma always wanted a corner shelf to put the clock on. Grandpa said he would get to it. He had the tools, but he was working and building a house and helping build a community in the California desert. Grandma got tired of waiting, so she built it herself. 

It was the heartbeat of my grandma’s house as far back as I remember. The shelf and the clock stood like an altar in the corner of the small dining room. That steady tick tock seemed to magnify the quiet peace I found there. Grandma would faithfully wind the clock at 10 each night, just before she went to bed. The times it fell silent were rare and usually sad. 

My mother was the youngest daughter, and I was the youngest. I always knew it would pass to me. I love the clock but hate the price of sorrow and loss. Because of this, I passed it to my daughter as an acknowledgment of her adulthood. We share a house though, and there it still stands on the corner shelf, overlooking our dining room. 

It has fallen quiet these days. The last time we wound it, it didn’t sound right. Time and dry heat have taken their toll. It is an expense and a burden to find a trustworthy person to keep it going. 

There is no record I have found of when and where Great-grandma Russell died, or what her illness was. My mom thought it may have been depression. By all accounts, Nora lived a hard but adventurous life, but died at the age of 30 in Oklahoma. This leaves the heritage of the clock as a one of bitterness and sorrow. Well, life is hard. 

But the shelf, that is the pure stubborn determination of my grandma. It may not be perfectly made, but it stands and serves. That is the heritage of the women in our family who have survived the hard times. We have used our hands to build dreams and create beauty. 

Grandma said it was the first clock ever bought in Carroll County Arkansas.  It’s a good story on a shaky foundation. Maybe it was the first fancy clock of its kind put on a shelf there. As far as being bought, well, I hope Mr. Russell did make payments to Mr. Clark. I imagine they shook on it, but if there were any receipts, they didn’t survive. 

Note: I apologize for the quality of the photo. I think this was from around 1979 and someone really liked their Polaroid camera and the phot hasn't held  u[ well. Unfortunately the clock tended to get cut off of other photos gathered round the table.