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Cuckoo by Mary Howard January 17, 2007 You may think that life today is crazy enough, but I recently found the motivation to put a little "cuckoo" into my life and the lives of my three boys ages 6, 10, and 12. As the Grandaughter of a clock repairman, time has always had unique meaning to me. Names like Seth Thomas were frequently used in my house. Moments in time were measured in pendulum swings, clanging gongs, clock chimes and most interestingly, in cuckoos. Growing up, our mornings were paced by the sounding of the Cuckoo in the kitchen. Several years ago, my mother purchased a cuckoo clock for me from the Black Forest in Germany. She cradled the delicate parcel in her lap all the way back on the plane from Europe. Sadly, shortly after we introduced the Cuckoo into our home, it was quickly relegated to the basement. The enthusiastic calls of the cuckoo kept waking up our young children as they tried to sleep in our small one story home. After moving into a larger home, we again tried to enjoy the novelty of the Cuckoo. Unfortunately, my toddler liked to pull on the chains and my other sons would yank it off the wall trying to wind it. Eventually the cuckoo was retired to her chambers once more and the clock was filed in the "needs repair" pile in the basement. Recently, one rainy Saturday afternoon, I stumbled across my abandoned Cuckoo. The chains were tangled and it was covered in dust--clearly a testament to neglect. Inspired by the memories of my clock laden childhood, I rescued my Cuckoo from the depths of my basement. Like a swarm of bees, my three boys hovered over the jumble with curiosity. When they saw the dusty "old thing" they quickly lost interest and scattered away to their various forms of video entertainment. Undeterred by their lack of enthusiasm, I decided to attempt to resuscitate my clock. Like a surgeon, I draped newspaper across the kitchen table and laid my victim in the center. My thoughts floated back to memories of watching my Grandfather hovered over his workbench, his thick weathered fingers manipulating tiny screws and gears as he tipped his head to the side viewing the workings through his good eye. Inspired by his passion, I again focused my attention on my specimen determined to explore inside. Now, I am not an experienced mechanic, nor am I particularly mechanically inclined, so I might as well have been attempting to diffuse a bomb. I sat there viewing the complex maze of gears and began poking and prodding. Moments later, my 10 year old son who is very mechanically minded came over to investigate what I was doing. In my impatience and frustration, I wasn't quite ready to share the complex task and so I shooed him away. An hour, one glass of wine and two broken fingernails later, I felt that I was nearing completion with my repairs. I called the boys down (who broke away from their video entertainment very reluctantly) so that they could witness the joyous unveiling of my mechanical success. My 6 year old son jumped up and down in excitement while my 12 year old son hung back non-committally not quite ready to reduce himself to the level of "uncoolness" the Cuckoo represented. My 10 year old proceeded to quiz me about the details of the inner workings of the clock. I proudly hung my trophy on the dining room wall, ready to revel in my mechanical glory. I arranged the hands and slowly moved the minute hand towards the XII. Once it reached the target, the weights started to move and my heart jumped as the clock door opened and bird poked out her head exclaiming "Kook". My sons fell to the floor laughing. Undeterred by this momentary set back, I pulled the clock down. I had now captured the interest of my children. We were collectively determined to put the "coo" back in the clock. Together we poked and prodded, fiddled and gazed at the clock until we resolved the "coo" issue. Once again we took her for a test drive on the dining room wall. We slowly rotated the hands and stood back and basked in the joyous sound as our avian friend poked her head out and refrained loud and clear "Cuckoo!" Together we cheered and high fived at our victory. Several weeks have gone by since the Cuckoo's resurrection, and it is amazing how it has impacted our lives. My oldest son, often tranquilized by the T.V., springs up with activation energy at the sound of the Cuckoo. My 10 year old races down every morning to carefully pull the chains and wind the clock. He has also taken great pains to adjust the pendulum weight up or down to help the clock keep accurate time. Even my 6 year old son delights in silly sounding call of the Cuckoo. This Cuckoo may only measure minutes and hours, yet the success of bringing the Cuckoo back into our lives has measured so much more. It represents the passing days and years as my children grow. This passing time has become much more evident as I reflect on the last time the cuckoo called. This legacy of my grandfather and gift from my mother has added a delightful little "Cuckoo" into our lives. About the author: I am a Middle School Teacher and mother of three young boys. I find delight in the everyday events around my household and watching my boys grow up and discover the world around them. | | | |
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