Grandson, Coleman, didn't score a deer this year, but it wasn't for lack of trying.

November 28, 2017 - Tuesday

44 degrees/cloudy/windy

Pentoga Road

In these dark, early morning hours, I want to begin today by talking about a clock.

I inherited Grandma and Grandpa's grandfather clock many years ago, something I was proud of.

The clock, housed in imitation plastic wood with works that were certainly not made in Switzerland, is not of any monetary value. A man of very modest means, I'm sure it's all Grandpa could afford when he ordered it from the Montgomery Wards catalogue and gave it to Grandma as a Christmas gift. Seems she'd wanted a grandfather's clock for many years. It stood in the corner of their home, keeping perfect time and chiming away for many years.

I remember Grandpa asking, "T Buster, you want to hear the clock chime?" 

With a cigarette dangling from his lips, the old man would reach around back of the clock, trip a lever, then stand back and smile, proudly listening to the Westminster chimes sounding throughout their home.

Mom and Dad originally inherited the clock and when they retired to Florida, it was passed on to me. I lived in Maine at the time so the folks had the clock professionally packed in a large wooden crate and loaded onto a potato shipping truck from one of our northern Maine haulers that was driving through the Midwest.

I never was successful in restarting the Montgomery Wards relic during my Maine years, but it stood tall and proud in our dining room. Honestly, I was so busy at the time working and raising sons that there was little time to worry about a clock.

When my time in Maine ended, I was in a quandary of where to keep the time piece along with other family heirlooms. The boys' mother said it would be perfectly okay to leave them where they were, that she'd look after them. It's a kindness I'll never forget.

Many years passed and eventually, the little house on Pentoga Road was purchased. I rented a U-Haul trailer and the family treasures were relocated to the UP. Mississippi Brother Garry and Miss Jody were visiting several years ago and he helped to get the time piece working again, but not the chimes. They've never worked since it's been in my possession. 

I was sitting in the living room three days ago when I decided it was time. The internet was handy and I immersed myself in everything known about Montgomery Wards grandfather clocks. I became versed on the terms, the parts, the workings, and learned once again how to mutter, swear, curse, and throw hissy fits.

Hours passed. I finally withdrew my hands from the inner workings and said a little prayer to Baby Jesus and the spirit of Montgomery Wards that maybe, just possibly, the relic might chime once again. 

Click... 

The hammers drew back and I listened as the familiar Westminster chimes sounded throughout the house. Back from the grave, Grandma and Grandpa's clock sounded memories of many years gone by.

With the chimes going off at the quarter, half, and on the hour, we have a slight problem. The clock Dad built, the one I also inherited, chimes as well.

We also have a musical clock with moving parts hanging in the same room. It seems all three sound at once. One would think Big Ben, along with a full symphony orchestra, has relocated to our dining room each and every hour. 

Sargie and I don't mind a bit.

You see, once every hour, we hear three generations of family, Grandma and Grandpa, Mom and Dad, and Sargie and me, rejoicing in life, past, present, and future. 

It's certain that the day will come when we pass the time pieces onto our sons or even our grandchildren. Hopefully a younger family member will enjoy the chimes and music as much as we do.

I received an unexpected surprise last night when Sargie arrived home late from work with news that she doesn't have to work today. Evidently the supervisor scheduled too many people and Sargie volunteered to take the day off. 

There's been some discussion that my bride might be able to cut back to working part time. Today would be a good start.

Monday was jerky day on Pentoga Road. The marinaded venison went into the oven first thing in the morning.

Initially I was going to use the dehydrator, but when I discovered we had more than enough baking racks to fit inside several large cookie sheets, I decided to save time and utilize the oven.

It took two batches and the entire day, but by early evening, I'd packaged two gallon bags of jerky.

Sargie, an avowed non venison lover, pronounced the jerky very good. 

The rest of the day was spent making three puzzles.

Emerson

I am still experimenting with which blade works best, the best adhesive and finish, and designs, so all the pieces lock into each other. 

Ivy

Coleman's puzzle was redone as I wasn't at all happy with the first attempt. I may end up doing a couple of others over before I'm finished. 

I'm discovering even simple puzzle making is a process with a bit of a learning curve. 

Sargie was home late last night and we didn't get to bed until almost midnight. Who cares? She's off today.

I'm going for a walk this morning then work out in the shop after. I'll leave what we do this afternoon up to Sargie. No doubt we'll go for a drive then after, who knows?

After all, a man's work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...