“Uncle George Clarke, a Man of His Time”

 “Uncle George Clarke, a Man of His Time” 

“For everything there is a season, and a time under heaven:             

a time to be born, and a time to die;...           

a time to break down, and a time to build up;...         

a time to weep, and a time to laugh;         

a time to mourn, and a time to dance;...         

a time to keep, and a time to cast away;...     

a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;...”        

“...I have seen the business that God has given to the sons of men to be busy with.  He  has made everything beautiful in its time; also he has put eternity into man's mind, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end..."  Ecc.3:1-2,3,4,6,7,10-11 (RSV)  

If there was something that Uncle George knew well, he knew Time. His profession in life was measuring time.  He loved his timepieces, especially the old ones, that he restored: grandfather clocks, desk clocks and especially the pocket and wrist watches: the National’s, the Hamilton’s, the Elgins, the Bulova’s...  

 You could see him in his shop in downtown Coral Gables, beside the police station. He joked that his shop would never get robbed. He  began the day with his ritual of winding up the many clocks and watches he had on display and on his work desk.  They were the windup kind, the ones you had to fuss with and wind up every twenty four hours,... that you had to take off your wrist every time you went swimming or took a shower.  

I remember the time, when you didn't get your first watch until you were 12 years old, perhaps some of you remember your first dime store pocket watch.  Today, toddlers wear them, not knowing what they are.  Then, you had to earn one.  Mine was a wristwatch wind up Timex, that my parents gave me for Christmas, bought from George's shop, of course.  I used it even after George had cleaned it and fixed it several times, until it took too much of a likin', and it quit tickin'.  

Later, my parents presented me with a fine gold XIXth century Hamilton pocket watch, for my college graduation present, restored and cared for by Uncle George.  

Many years later, when the newfangled digital watches were in vogue, I was wearing my Casio, you know, the one that can survive in 200 meters of water; that beeps on the half-hour; that never needs a new battery in five years; let alone winding every day, and has so many do dads, it practically washes the dishes automatically.  

I will never forget George's disdain, as he spied at my wrist.  Without saying a word, he looked upon it with a contempt of a time gone by, as if our world had abandoned his first love. Perhaps These new watches seemed to be lifeless. They just hummed.  They don't have the ticking rhythm of life, that George so much loved and lived by. 

George's life was like that; time honored, meticulous, orderly rhythmic.  A man of many habits, you could set your watch by them.  We all knew and loved George with his fussy ways.

A life of his, was a statement expressing a rebellion against the fast paced rush of our current way of living.   

George was a Canadian and during World War II he served in India, repairing the damaged airplane instruments. Of course he did!

As children, my brother David, and I will never forget those years the Clarke's lived in Coral Gables.  They were always a haven for our fast-paced life, moving between Cuba and Florida. 

They were our welcoming and departure committee.  Their neat home nestled in the suburbs of Coral Gables on Obispo Street seemed timeless, as we came there weary from our day long journey from Camagüey.  

We gathered be around the dinner table, with added table leaves; both families together, and George holding court, at the head of the table. Following the perfunctory thanksgiving prayer, he carved the ham (always ham) with that sweet crust as he tickled our humors with his quick word, jibes, jokes, and wit.  We knew we were back home on solid ground.  

Last month, as we all knew that George's days on this earth were reaching a close, our family went to see him for the last time.  Virginia greeted us at the door of their Winter Haven home.  She invited each of us to go and visit with him in the bedroom.  

I went in, when my turn came.  We soon were talking about watches.  A few years ago, George had given me a watch from his collection, as he was closing shop in his retirement.  “Here it is...”  He reminded me of the gold hands he had hand carved, restoring this watch with a French movement.  Then the silver chain with the crooked Cross.  

From his bed of pain and suffering he said to me, "Larry, do you know why the Cross is crooked?"  I said, "I didn't know. Why?”  "Because the Cross is a hard thing to bear."  I agreed.  I saw the familiar sparkle in his eye, and he and I knew, without saying, that he was ready to lay his Cross down on the altar of Jesus Christ.  

And so he has,... in His own good time.  

"Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give your rest.  Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light."  Mt.11:28-30 (RSV)