Time, Tradition, and the Quiet Power of Ritual
In a world that moves fast, winding a mantle clock is a gentle rebellion, a way to honor the past, embrace presence, and mark time with intention. This reflection invites readers in Maryland and DC to consider the emotional resonance of small rituals and the legacy they carry.
My grandparents were Indiana farmers. They started their married lives in a lean-to on a hectare of land. That is about the size of three football fields. Stop and think about this. Indiana is not on the beach or in the sunny south. Summers are hot, and winters are filled with snow and ice. They started their married life in a lean-to, one open side and a slanting roof that hit the ground on the opposite side. I have no idea how they survived even one winter. I know the following structure was a shed for animals and them as well, and that relatives were called upon to help put the building up. They call it a “barn-raising,” and everyone comes to help. The men do the heavy work, and the women feed them. Living in the barn was common until the farm made enough money to put up a house.
One of the first items that my grandmother splurged on once the house was built was a mantle clock. You have probably seen many of these. They come in a variety of shapes, and the winders are rods that poke through the face of the clock. One winder is for the hands so that they move in time. One winder is for the chime that strikes the hour and the half hour. Some clocks will strike the quarter hour as well.
The clock was a sign of prosperity. If you were wealthy, you would get a grandfather clock. Most farmers had mantle clocks. My grandmother’s clock chimed the quarter hour and donged the hours. The thing ran all the time. That means if you slept at grandmother’s, you were doomed to hear the chimes every 15 minutes all night long. Somehow, your brain adjusted after a few times, and sleeping through the night was easy. Your brain is a fascinating organ that accommodates this disruption and allows for nightly rest.
When you were tall enough and steady enough to stand on a kitchen chair, you could haul the chair into the living room, place it in front of the fireplace, and be trusted to wind the clock. There are two winders and a glass cover that must be opened safely to access them. A large brass key sat behind the clock, so you also had to be tall enough to reach the key before you were trusted to be the winder. The other marvelous thing about this privilege was that you got to replace your older sibling. There are few opportunities for this one-upmanship, so you took every one that you could. The sound of the winder was satisfying. It was a bit like a crank on an old car. You had to be careful to pay attention to the tension increasing as you wound so that you did not stress the spring and ruin the clock.
There are a few rites of passage for a young child, and winding the clock was truly valuable.
Oh, and by the way, I still wind the mantle clock today. So satisfying!
Curious about how these clocks work? Explore Clock Preservation’s guide to winding holes and Bill’s Clockworks instructions for antique American clocks to learn more about the mechanics and care of these timeless treasures.
Rituals like winding a clock can ground us in memory and meaning. If you’re exploring personal history, emotional growth, or family legacy, therapy can help. Learn more about individual therapy in Maryland and DC or explore therapeutic approaches that support healing and insight.
By Dr. Gloria K Vanderhorst
