If you've ever been to my parents' house for more than 15 minutes, you've probably seen and/or heard The Clock. If that has been the case, there is a decent chance you've probably heard the story of how my dad obtained it. But just in case...
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My dad encountered The Clock while serving his mission in Brussels, Belgium. It belonged to his landlady and was allegedly over 100 years old even then. She offered to sell it to him for $10. My dad bought The Clock, but couldn't afford it to ship it home so my Uncle Robert paid to have it shipped home and took ownership of The Clock. The only problem was that while it was in my Uncle Robert's possession, it never worked.
So when my dad returned home, Uncle Robert gave The Clock back to him. My dad put The Clock on the wall and it immediately began to work, which it has ever since.
The Clock has been present throughout my life, chiming every quarter hour, day and night.
Just recently, my brother Kevin found a stack of letters that my dad had written on his mission. He's been going through them and digitizing them. This morning, he found the letter where my dad first made mention of The Clock.
