The Sound of One Man's Life

by J.G. Fabiano

Ch-chink, ch-chink, ch-chink was the sound made by that antique clock at Harry's old house in Framingham, Massachusetts, for as long as I can remember. In fact, I am told that the sound was around for as long as anybody could remember, even Harry. He swears to this day that the old clock was the first thing he could ever remember hearing.

He woke up the other day looking a bit more tired than he did the morning before. Every morning his eyes seem to fall deeper and deeper into the sockets of his head. His skin also seems to be growing more translucent and colorless than it did the morning before.

The years of working three jobs to support his six kids is catching up with the man that just wanted to live a quiet life. His days always began with the ch-chink of the time clock in order to measure his importance to his life. The ch-chink of those time clocks also let his family survive a little bit longer even though it never became a little bit easier or better. I've only known this man for the 21 years that I've been married to his daughter but I've heard from others who have know him forever, that he has changed very little over the span of his 86 years of life.

He looked like Clark Gable, was the description most used to describe this large strength of a man. And if you were ever in trouble you could not find a better benefactor. He never had much money but that didn't matter because he was always there to either loan or offer to loan any amount necessary without interest or pressure to pay it back. The pay back, of course, usually never came. This is probably the best reason to explain why, in his older years, he doesn't have a lot of money.

Most of the people he loaned money to forgot, with time, that they even owed the money. Or in later years, they just died. Harry didn't care because he always thought that money was only worth the paper it was printed on and that life was too important to put a price on it.

The one idea of Harry's that I personally will always remember is that the man never talked against or down on another person. No matter what that other person did to Harry, or even Harry's family, no on ever heard Harry try to hurt that person with words.

Even when I knew that I had treated his daughter wrongly, he would just listen and play with the change in his pockets. Ch-chink, ch-chink, ch- chink. The change would roll to make that sound to be combined with his silence for he knew that this problem would disappear like all the other problems, with time.

Because he was such a good man, it was only natural that this goodness had to rub off on all that he was in contact with. His offspring became good and generous people who lived their lives in the way in which their father lived.

Now I don't mean to give you the idea that Harry spent a lot of time with his kids. In reality, he spent very little time with his family because of the need to support and feed them. But the times they did spend together left such good and loving memories that stories are retold without the teller ever missing a detail. I always observe tears in the eyes that belong to the story teller. Never tears of sadness or regret. Just tears of love.

But the years grew tough on Harry even though his children, as they grew older and more prosperous, helped him as much as they could. His bones creaked like that old clock. Ch-chink, ch-chink, ch-chink. He grew older in years and older in health, but his views on life never changed.

He still believed a house is just a piece of wood and a car is just a hunk of metal. Real objects were not important to Harry, just real people. Money was never synonymous with happiness. In fact, most of the time he believed that too much money led to a life of misery and emptiness.

Even after losing his battle to keep his leg, he still would not change his views of life. Views imparted to now aging grandchildren and great grandchildren. The only thing that did change was his name. Harry became Grampie. Grampie always stayed the same.

Ch-chink, ch-chink, ch-chink. These are the sounds that will stay with him for the rest of his already long life. With the loss of his leg came his now ever present companion: his walker.

The man, with all his paralysis, his philosophy of goodness and grace, and most of all his progeny who will continue his views into their own future. Harry will always be preceded in memory and reality by ch-chink, ch-chink, ch-chink.

Comments writers@mcint.com
Last Updated: August 28, 1996