A Family Treasure

I am probably one of the luckiest people in the world. I have a wonderful husband, a sweet little boy and the most supportive and loving parents a gal could ask for. I adore them all (my brother, and Grandma, Aunts, Uncles, Cousins and my husband's family too).

When I can’t be with my family, I love to be around things that remind me of them. My cubicle at the office is wallpapered with pictures of Little Guy. At home, we have various items from different branches of our family tree scattered about. Some of the most priceless to me are those things which remind me of loved ones who have passed away. Old black and white photos, a worn family Bible, patchwork quilts and a few pieces of furniture are favorites. Some of these things once belonged to loved ones, others were found at garage sales or antique stores, and purchased because seeing them warmed my heart and made me remember someone who isn’t around anymore.

I had a birthday earlier this month, and was surprised and humbled to receive (among other things) a family cuckoo clock from my parents. The clock originally belonged to my Dad’s Great Aunt. She received it as a gift sometime in the early 1960s. When she died, her daughter (always known to me as “Aunt Cleo” though technically a cousin and not an aunt) hung it in her apartment. My Dad has had the clock since Aunt Cleo passed away in the late nineties.

Aunt Cleo was a pip. For as long as I can remember, she made me laugh. She was funny and feisty and full of life. Though much older than me, she always treated me like a buddy. I don’t really know how she was to other people, but to me she was an interesting and entertaining lady. She’s been gone for many years now, but I still miss her. When Dad told me they were giving me the cuckoo clock (which has been displayed prominently in their home for years), I was immediately touched by the gesture, and was pleased to accept their gift.

I’m not sure what exactly prompted my parents to pass it on to me now. I know that it has been special to Dad in particular.  All these years he has carefully kept it running (resetting each week as its only an eight day clock). The clock probably has very little monetary value, if any. It’s around fifty years old, but not rare. The value lies in knowing that loving hands in our family have kept it going for half a century. I am honored to continue that tradition.

I have hung it in our little dining room nook. The walls in that area are covered with old family photos, and it seemed fitting that such a family treasure would hang amongst those cherished photos (some of which are of the very family members who minded the clock before me).

The gentle tick tick tick of the cuckoo clock reminds me of home, and of precious family and of how very blessed I am. 

Here we are in 1997 at her apartment (you can see the clock weights behind my head in this picture).

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