The Old-Clock Shop

C

HRISTMAS Eve had arrived. As last-minute shoppers were

going home, a thick, white sheet of snow lay over Salt Lake

City, USA. Yet the lights were still burning in the old-clock

shop, as Ray, its old, deaf owner, worked on a clock he had

sold that day.

Having finished his work, Ray stood up and was on his

way to the back room when a cold rush of air from the front

door hit the back of his neck.

He turned to meet a last-minute shopper, but his old, wise

eyes told him that this was not a shopper. He saw two men,

one in his twenties, the other closer to fifty. The younger man

remained at the door. The older man approached the counter

with no sign of friendliness in his eyes. Ray was able to hide

his growing fear as he slowly pushed a notepad and a pencil

across the counter.

He smiled at the unfriendly face, then pointed to his ears

and shook his head from side to side. A quick look of surprise

changed the man’s face as he studied the notepad, then

turned and said something to his friend.

Ray used the chance to look closely at the man, paying

attention to the shape of a gun and a restless hand in the

man’s right coat-pocket. Anger boiled within him, but it was

kept down by an inner voice that said, “Be still.” He wrote on

the notepad, “May I help you?” For the first time the older

man looked directly at Ray and smiled. A cruel, mocking smile.

They both understood why he was there, why his friend

remained at the door. They looked like men who were down

on their luck, and were now ready to try something they would

later be sorry about.

The clocks ticked on. Ray calmly wrote another message.

“Have you come to pick up a clock or watch?” Then he

pointed to the ‘loan’ board filled with hanging clocks and

pocket watches. He was not a pawnbroker, but at the same

time couldn’t say ‘No’ to the needy people who placed their

old watches or clocks before him for anything they could get.

He loaned more than he should. They would be there when

the owners wanted them back ... at the same price he had

paid, with no interest.

Then the older man seemed to feel a little easier, took out

his hand from his pocket and quickly looked at the watch on

his wrist. “How much will you give me for this?” the

man wrote.

Ray noticed a little shame in the grey eyes looking at him.

The watch was nothing special and yet had great powers. It

was something to exchange, a way out of a bad situation.

Knowing that great need had brought the man to his shop in

the first place, Ray asked, “How much do you need for it?”

The reply came back on the notepad: “Whatever it’s worth.”

Ray reached into his cash-box, pulled out a fifty-dollar

note and passed it into the man’s hand. As they shook hands,

Ray looked into the man’s eyes; they seemed to say, “Thank

you!” They both knew the watch wasn’t worth that much.

Before turning to leave, the man wrote, “I will be back to pick

it up as soon as I can. Merry Christmas!”

The little story ended on the half hour with the clocks

striking all together. The timepieces, which had been looking

on silently all the while, rang out the time with such feeling

that even Ray thought he could hear them. Their sweet,

musical message was filled with hope. The timeless message

of ‘Peace on earth, goodwill towards all’ was felt by the three

men who stood in the old-clock shop.