The Beauty of a Clock

A friend of mine on Facebook today mentioned an analog clock he and his wife have in a bathroom in their home. He mentioned how he could read it from the shower via a mirror.  My mind, as usual, went down a rabbit hole and suddenly I remembered hearing recently that many children and adults could no longer read an analog clock. At the time I thought that had to be wrong and hoped it was true. (I had also heard that children are no longer being taught cursive writing in school. Unfortunately, I have learned that that rumor is true. Breaks my heart, but that’s another subject.)

My husband and I have many clocks in our house, but the dearest, most valuable one to me is an analog battery clock set in a wooden frame that I bought for my dad many years ago at a pharmacy. His vision was rapidly declining due to macular degeneration and he could no longer read his watch. One day while waiting for a prescription refill, I saw a clock for sale for about $10 I think and immediately thought it would be perfect for Daddy. It even had the hands that glow in the dark at night, which would be perfect for Daddy when he awoke at 4:00 in the morning and got up to sit in the living room until Mother woke up. Of course, I bought the clock and I think it was Daddy’s Father’s Day gift that year. That same clock now sits on my bathroom shelf and I look at it many times during the course of an average day. Every time I look at it, I think of my dad fondly. He didn’t use it for years and years, but the time he did use it was precious to me.

I think the true usefulness and beauty of a clock is not in whether it is analog, digital or sand or even in the time it tells, but in the time that it keeps. Daddy’s clock, to me, will always represent the time I kept with my father in his last years and how special that time was to me. 

I have a grandson now, Milo, who is two years old. He has excellent parents who will, I have no doubt, teach him how to read an analog clock. Someday I will share with Milo the story of my little bathroom clock and how precious it is and someday further in the future, I will leave it to him so he can remember how his Grandmama Dee used that clock to keep time with her father and then used it to keep time with him, her beloved grandchil

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Election Day in the U.S.A.!

What day is this,
that all are nervous,
speaking in shouts,
or tones hushed and querulous?

Why do people so much
wish for tomorrow,
anticipating great joy,
or dreading such sorrow?

The truth is we’ve had many
such election days,
when people were nervous,
fearing the worst,
yet never, so far,
have we become eternally cursed.

In spite of the fears,
we’ve endured on,
we’ve made it through wars,
depressions and worse.

Why fret so today,
we’re going to be okay,
because, people, we live
in the grand U.S.A.!

Elaine Wood Lane sharing her little two cents worth. Hang in there people! We’re going to be fine if you just keep calm, hang your hopes on God and not man, and keep on keeping on!  Spread the joy, spread the love!  

Enjoying the moment with joy!

Memories Never Forgotten, An Etheree Poem

I saw this idea/suggestion on the dVerse blog yesterday and it completely intrigued me so I thought I’d give it a go. Also, today is my oldest son’s birthday so in light of that, I thought I’d attempt an Etheree style poem about the day he was born.

We
had been
laboring for hours,
you and I, wondering
what in the world was
making things so hard for you
to escape the comfortable home you outgrew.
Contractions strengthened, you kicked, stretched, and nothing changed.
Finally, your little heart, exhausted beyond all endurance, slowed.
Doctors came, pronouncements made, preparations done, and here you came!

© D. Elaine Wood-Lane
5/20/16


An Etheree, based on syllables or words, is a geometric form, ascending from one to ten or inverted from ten to one. You can build as many sequences as you like, reversing the syllable/word count from ten to one (or not). Suggestion and more information can be found at: https://dversepoets.com

I hear the train whistles
long before I can hear
the sound of the heavy wheels
and high speed clacking
of the real train,
the sound of romance, old days, civilization.

Without the train,
my country would have settled
much more slowly.

In my thoughts
I see tracks over wide spaces,
mountains, rivers, forests.

I hear my Dad telling me
that when the train came to Lubbock
that is when the town began to grow.

I hear my Mother telling me
the story of her family coming
to West Texas by train in 1920,
when she was a cute little blonde,
only four years old,
to begin a new life.

These are the moments that
grew a country.

I hear all that as the train passes through
on this crisp, cold morning in Canyon, Texas.

© Elaine Wood-LaneFebruary 26, 2005

Workers lay down railroad ties in preparation for the first railway to come to Lubbock in 1909. The city reached an agreement earlier that year with Santa Fe Railway to bring train service to Lubbock which laid the groundwork for the future Hub of the Plains. (Lubbock Avalanche-Journal Centennial Edition 2009)