A Matter of Time

The vintage Big Ben clanged the twin bells at 6:56 on a Thursday morning, like the continuous alarm at the railroad crossing before the arms descend. Mr. James T. Seiko rolled over and pushed the on/off lever down, like every morning for the past 50 years. His grandpa had given him the mighty Big Ben on his ninth birthday—one of his prized possessions.

After grooming, he fastened his newest watch on his right wrist. Then double-checked the time on his iPhone, followed by tightly twisting the band of his father’s watch on his left. All in sync.

On the way to the kitchen, he heard his freshly brewing coffee drip, primed and set to brew precisely as he exited the master bathroom. He had just enough time to stop and wind the walnut grandfather clock in the corner of the dining room, adjacent to the kitchen.

“Time to go, NOW!” The house groaned, the pounding of feet was heard against the stairs, and his family stood before him in 1 min and 23 seconds.

Lined up by their respective position in the family, Audrey, his wife of forty years, followed by Curtis, 30, and Christine, 28.

“What time is it, Dad?” Curtis' favorite question whenever he was home to visit.

With great flair, the patriarch raised his right arm straight out, as if to salute, then deliberately bent the arm at a right angle while turning the watch to eyeball level.

“It’s 7:27. Today’s the day! We must leave at 8:06 to make it downtown. If you’re going to eat, do it now and make it simple.”

“Are you going to tell us what’s going on, Dad?” Christine came across as slightly bored but curious enough about this change in routine. She still lived at home and knew their schedule like clockwork.

“You will know when we get there. But we can’t be late. Time is money, as they say.”

Audrey skipped breakfast, but stopped to feed the two felines, Timex and Rolex. She rolled her eyes as James drummed his fingers on the countertop. James watched with fascination as Timex and Rolex swung their tails to the pendulum's exact beat, setting the house's rhythm.

“I’m going to warm up the car. Let’s move along.” James grabbed his wallet and his uncle’s timepiece and slipped them into his jacket pocket. He wore the exact shade of dark blue suit as yesterday. And the day before. And last week. More than once, he explained how coordinating one’s closet and taking the choice out of what to wear saves three and a half minutes each day. Add that up over a lifetime.

“Dad, we still have 6 minutes and 52 seconds until we leave.” Curtis again. James smiled at the fundamental basics of time that Curtis respected. Christine punched Curtis in the ribs. Audrey went to get her purse.

The foursome climbed into the car, where James checked his watches with the backlit digital clock display in his 2010 Buick. “Buckle up, we need to get going. We’re 54 seconds late already.”

“Dad, I’m sure you built in extra time; we’ll be fine.” Christine fastened her seatbelt as her dad backed out of the garage and left the driveway at 45 mph.

“We can’t be late. Parking might be tricky.” He saved 1 minute and 13 seconds by catching the perfect moment to enter the freeway on ramp. He felt the tension release in his shoulders.

“When are you going to let us in on your secret?” Audrey grinned and stifled a laugh.

“I’ll tell you when we arrive. Time will tell. It’s a big day, a big day.”

Sixteen minutes and thirty-one seconds later, they pulled into the city’s free parking lot. The town center was packed, kids carried balloons, parents carried kids on their shoulders, and everyone jostled for the best location.

“This way, come on. Come on. We need to be upfront.”

Audrey, Christine, and Curtis followed behind, doing their best to stay up with James. A band played, and vendors hawked hot dogs and popcorn, even though it was only 8:30 in the morning. Signs plastered the buildings, more prolific the closer they got to the Central Circle. Happy Birthday! 104 years old! Welcome to our History!

They reached the inner sanctum of the city’s cobblestone circle; the familiar landmark stood proudly in the middle. The Clock Tower. More than a century old and still functional, partly because of James T. Seiko. He worked for the city maintenance in charge of the Clock and was meticulous, if not tedious, in his unerring service to this magnificent, historic timepiece. He had worked here his entire life, and now, at 59 years old, he was in the management division, but he still remembered the days of climbing a scaffolding to polish the crystal over the dial. He learned the inner workings through his sweat and determination. Now, he merely supervised.

The mayor walked up to a podium placed on a makeshift stage and took the microphone.

“Today, we celebrate our Clock Tower and the 104 years she has been standing guard over our city. We want to thank the hundreds of people who have worked diligently this past century to keep her ticking!”

The crowd cheered, and James beamed. He reached into his jacket pocket, removed his wallet, and pulled out one red lottery ticket.

“We are having a drawing today, a lottery designed for all city employees. This is for a chance to ride up to the face of our Clock Tower!”

James' hands were sweaty, and he fiercely gripped his ticket while showing it to his family. His wife patted him on the arm, and the kids matched his grin. James knew he shouldn’t count on winning, but he wanted to make that ride to the top. He wanted to feel the exhilaration of his youthful days when he would climb to the top, a tool bag strapped to his back.

“The time has come,” the mayor paused so the crowd could chuckle. “Get your tickets out and let’s have our drawing.”

James held his breath and looked up at the ancient Clock Tower. He closed his eyes and felt the cool morning air on his face. He heard the crowd murmuring while others around him pulled their tickets out of pockets, purses, and bags. He smelled cotton candy, roasted nuts, and Audrey’s hairspray. He swayed slowly, almost imperceptibly, as he waited for the announcement.

“Dad, dad, that’s your number!” James opened his eyes to see his family surrounding him and jumping up and down. It took a few seconds for him to realize he had won. He had the winning ticket.

James practically ran to the podium with his ticket high in the air. Today was one of the best days of his life. He could hardly comprehend that he would make that ride up the Clock Tower. The ticket was verified, pictures were taken, his family was invited onto the platform, and the telephone company’s cherry picker was placed.

James stepped into the bucket, was secured by the lineman who would ride along, and turned and faced the crowd. He waved to his family and then turned and watched his ascent to reach the face of the Clock Tower. He looked at his left-hand watch as they started the lift. The ride took 44 seconds.

Down below, his family screamed, “Hey, what time is it?”