And then the cuckoo flew away ...

the spot where the cuckoo clock lives

Hanging on our wall since 1978 has been a cuckoo clock that once belonged to my great-grandfather Warren A. Lanterman (1866-1963), who for 90 years lived on a farm on Four Mile Run Rd. in Austintown, Ohio (he's buried in a cemetery near there).

He passed the clock along to my grandmother Osborn (his daughter), who gave it to my mom back in the 1950s. It hung and cuckooed on our wall in Hiram, Ohio.

In 1966, my mom and dad moved out to Des Moines to teach at Drake University, and the clock hung on their wall at 3500 Wakonda Court until 1978 when my grandmother died and my parents had decided to retire out on the Oregon coast (Cannon Beach). Downsizing, they gave the clock to us then, and our son, Steve (he turned six that year), loved the clock.

His sons now love it, and when they're here visiting, and they hear the clock cuckooing in the other room, they sometimes sprint out there to watch it.

It has hung and cuckooed for us ever since 1978. Our homes in Kent, Lake Forest (IL), Hudson and Aurora (OH). We've had it repaired a couple of times, but, otherwise, it's been very reliable.

In the last couple of weeks, though, it has ... slowed ... then stopped ... (reminds me of myself) ...

So ... I called our repairman, and he was just here to pick it up. A quick look told him it didn't need much. Some cleaning, lubrication. We'll have it back next week, he thinks. $100 or so.

That's the best news.

As he was leaving the house with it, I told him that our grandsons would thank him.

As they will, I'm sure.

And I'll thank him right now. As I've written here before, the sound of that clock is the heartbeat of our house. And things around here will be very wrong until we hear it again ...

boxed and ready to go to  rehab