My Grandmother Clock

When Kate was born, I listened to all the kiddie CDs, at home, in the car, everywhere.  One of my favorites (ca I even have a favorite?!) was My Grandfather's Clock.  Grandfather clocks weren't called grandfather clocks until about 1875 when a man named Henry Clay Work wrote the song My Grandfather's Clock.  According to legend/history, Work was staying in the George Hotel in England which was owned by two bachelor brothers.  Many longclocks (pre-grandfather clock) did not keep accurate time but the one which stood in the George Hotel kept remarkable time.  Until the first brother died.  The clock started to lose time.  And when, at age ninety,  the second brother died, the clock stopped altogether.  When Henry Clay Work commented on the stopped clock and was told the story, he wrote My Grandfather's Clock which became quite popular.  The name grandfather's clock stuck.

And then the grandmother clock.  There are many theories defining the difference between a grandfather clock and a grandmother clock.  Some say the grandfather operates because of a swinging pendulum while a grandmother is spring loaded.  Yeah.  Some describe the shape, more rigid vs. more curvy.  But all agree that the main difference is simply height.  The general guideline  is drawn at 80 inches; more than 80 is a grandfather and less is a grandmother.

I bought this non-pendulum, more curvy than rigid, 76-inch grandmother clock when the kids were very small.  Mark has never loved it and can't entirely blame him as it never looked it's best.  It first had a cheesy fake-glass door.  Then my dad made a nice wood door for it (which helped alot) but I never finished the door 'cause I knew eventually I wanted to paint it.  So, the door was just raw wood for a few years.  Now, I've finally (thanks to tips from Pinterest!) painted the whole clock and we both love it.

My grandfather's clock was to large for the shelf,
So it stood ninety years on the floor;
It was taller by half than the old man himself,
Though it weighed not a pennyweight more.
It was bought on the morn of the day that he was born,
And was always his treasure and pride.
But it stopped short, never to go again,
When the old man died...

In watching its pendulum swing to and fro,
Many hours had he spent while a boy;
And in childhood and manhood the clock seemed to know,
And to share both his grief and his joy.
For it struck twenty-four when he entered the door,
With a blooming and beautiful bride.
But it stopped short, never to go again,
When the old man died...

Ninety years without slumbering
Tick, tock, tick, tock,
His life seconds numbering,
Tick, tock, tick, tock
It stopped short, never to go again
When the old man died...

And it kept in its place, not a frown upon its face,
And its hands never hung by its side;
But it stopped short, never to go again,
When the old man died...

It rang an alarm in the dead of the night,
An alarm that for years had been dumb;
And we know that his spirit was pluming its flight,
That his hour of departure had come.
Still the clock kept the time, with a soft muffled chime,
As we silently stood by his side;
But it stopped short, never to go again,
When the old man died... 

-- Henry Clay Work