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This is a bit of a saga now-these clocks are now 5 seconds apart so the gap is growing slowly...Northampton...Jan 27 2016.
Mamaw’s Clock
I don’t really know the full history of this clock. (If I remember correctly it is a Waterbury clock we think is from around the 1920’s or teens. The label on the back is pretty degraded. I have a photo of the back of the clock saved somewhere and I need to find it and put somewhere easy to access.)
This was my mother’s mother’s clock. When I was little it hung on the wall of her house in Hiawassee Georgia. She kept it wound and it would always chime the hour and give one ding for the half-hour. It has a Very distinctive, Very loud chime. Not even really a chime... this thing goes DONG CLANG DONG and it’s spectacular.
I do have one great true story about this clock, it isn’t my story and I don’t remember the finer details, but I’ve been meaning to write this down anyway.
Back in the day in very rural USA (and other places?) they had a telephone “party line” where all the telephones in the area shared one line, so you could pick up the phone and talk to multiple people in the area all at once. Also, if someone was already on a call to someone else you could pick up your phone receiver and listen to them. So, when your neighbors had some really juicy drama, affairs, or drunken in-fighting over the telephone... you could just pick up the party line, sit very quietly, and secretly listen to all the good gossip. Until your clock chimes on the hour and the rowdy neighbor fighting with his girlfriend hears it and says something along the lines of: “I know who’s clock that is. I’m not going to say anything, but she better hang up.” My sweet Mamaw got herself busted listening in on the party line because of this clock.
At some point when I was a kid we brought the clock home with us from Georgia to Alaska and it hung in my house growing up. I was always enamored of this clock and loved to keep it wound and have it chime the hour, but it sortof drove the rest of the family crazy so we never kept it going long. After I moved out and got my own place my mom really surprised me and let me take the clock. (Our relationship isn’t that great, drama for a different story, and when I was still on speaking terms with her I lived in fear that she would demand this clock back if I ever acted too happy about having it.)
My husband and I kept this clock wound for quite a few years! She keeps time wonderfully. Her beautiful loud CLANG DONG CLANG discouraged some unwanted overnight houseguests from making repeat visits! My husbands friend tried to couch surf at our house... sure you can sleep on the couch... in the room with the clock!!
Currently we don’t keep her wound, I need to get a new clock key for her, the one we have is splitting and will break if we try to keep using it.
I always though the figurehead on the clock was a representation of Athena, but now I’m not sure?! I think winged helmets are usually Mercury/Hermes, but I don’t know. Any ideas who she could really be? Maybe just decorative?
(The bubble-level is off. How annoying. One more thing from the 2018 earthquake I haven’t fixed yet. Not a priority because she isn’t running.)
Industrial watch concept
1 acute D4 with medium stripbox from the top giving side lighting.
1 acute D4 above with scrim for fill
several cards for reflections in watch
More delicious snacks & drinks at the various world vendors, a few rides, a weird concert by Big Bad Voodoo Daddy? Then an Italian dinner where I again got to use my crummy knowledge of the language, ordering wine & risotto. 311/365.
MacroMondays Worn
This old clock key broke and was soldered back together. (From a time when we fixed things, rather than throw them out and buy a replacement.)
Clock tower added in 1930 when the entrance to the pier was rearranged for the widening of the promenade. Made of steel frame and timber cladded in zinc, painted black with gold-coloured detailing. City of Brighton & Hove, UK.
(CC BY-SA - credit: Images George Rex)
In The Seven Poor Travelers, Dickens wrote: "The silent High -street of Rochester is full of gables, with old beams and timbers carved into strange faces. It is oddly garnished with a queer old clock that projects over the pavement out of a grave red-brick building, as if Time carried on business there, and hung out his sign."