Skip to main content

Tick, Tock

If ever you come visit my parents' house, one of the first things you will probably notice (it's been a consistent trend thus far) is that there are multiple clocks in each room.

My maternal grandfather was an avid clock collector. By avid, I estimate that he owned over 500 clocks of all shapes and sizes when he died. The best of the clocks were then divided among the children, and the rest were sold.

The inundation of clocks served to make my mother an even more avid chronomentrophiliac (lover of clocks), and we have added even more to the ones she inherited. I'm a fan of antiques, and antique clocks - even greater.
 
Now the goodness is slowly trickling its way down, and I am the owner of one small but adorable clock. I still have to get the hang of it - winding every day & adjusting the speed to keep an accurate hour. Some people can't handle it, but falling asleep to a ticking clock brings back happy childhood memories.

To paraphrase a Lifehouse song, the ticking clock is a comfort.
Labels:

Comments

  1. lsia8:57 AM

    I agree! I think it's genetic :)

    ReplyDelete
  2. Lisa8:58 AM

    Wow, it's clearly too early for me to be typing quickly...I'll try to get my name right this time.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Beth10:37 PM

    Lisa - I was so confused at first..."who's isia??" - and I laughed out loud at your follow-up comment :)

    um, are you passing through TO anytime soon? PLEASE visit!

    ReplyDelete
  4. Lisa11:21 AM

    I'm in Guelph now, so it's not far to go visit you, even for an evening! Once I've settled in and figured out my class schedule, I'll let you know. Or if you're in Guelph sometime, let me know! It would be wonderful to get caught up.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Simone Weil: On "Forms of the Implicit Love of God"

Simone Weil time again! One of the essays in Waiting for God  is entitled "Forms of the Implicit Love of God." Her main argument is that before a soul has "direct contact" with God, there are three types of love that are implicitly  the love of God, though they seem to have a different explicit  object. That is, in loving X, you are really loving Y. (in this case, Y = God). As for the X of the equation, she lists: Love of neighbor  Love of the beauty of the world  Love of religious practices  and a special sidebar to Friendship “Each has the virtue of a sacrament,” she writes. Each of these loves is something to be respected, honoured, and understood both symbolically and concretely. On each page of this essay, I found myself underlining profound, challenging, and thought-provoking words. There's so much to consider that I've gone back several times, mulling it over and wondering how my life would look if I truly believed even half of these thi...
1 comment
Read more

The ROM, The Earth & Procreation

Disclaimer: This post is intended to generate discussion and a sharing of many opinions. It is NOT intended to judge or condemn anyone's life choices. I had an unexpected moment at the ROM last month. C and I were listening to a presentation for kids on wildlife conservation (or rather, I was listening, and C was eagerly anticipating what live animal would come out next), when a statement caught my attention and still hasn't let go. For most of history, the earth could provide enough resources for the earth's human population. But today, our population is growing rapidly, increasing by 250 000 people every day... Forty years from now, it will require 2 Earths to provide sustainably for our survival as a human species. But we only have 1 Earth. 250 000 people. Every day. That is roughly twice the size of my hometown. In one day. So I did a little math. (First, I rounded down to 200 000, just in case the figures were inflated or failed to account for some sort o...
27 comments
Read more

Esse - Czeslaw Milosz

I'm on a bit of a poetry binge this week, and Monday afternoon found me lying on the luxurious shag rug of a friend's tiny apartment, re-reading some of my favourite poets (ee cummings, William Carlos Williams, Czeslaw Milosz). It is an adventure to re-open a collection and wonder what will pop out, knowing something you've read before will strike you afresh, or you will be reminded of a particularly moving line that you had somehow forgotten. Like this piece from Milosz, which floors me. Every. damn.* time. The first time I read it, I lay in a park with a friend (this same friend who offered me her rug as my reading burrow) and demanded that I share it with her. I spoke it carefully, and then, into the post-reading silence, I slammed the book shut, and dropped it as loudly as I could onto the grass. "I'm never reading anything again," I declared, "What else is there to say?" Esse I looked at that face, dumbfounded. The lights of métro st...
Post a Comment
Read more