On April Fool’s Day they might as well say, “There’s no fool like an old fool.”
I’m not a time freak, but when my Zen alarm clock stopped nudging me awake with gentle chimes after two years, I had to find a replacement.
“Mom, get rid of that cell. Get a smart phone. It has an alarm. ” my son lectured me once again.
No. I don’t want a phone alarm clock. Who needs pulsating beeps and wrong numbers in the middle of the night.
Target had a digital clock radio encased in flimsy plastic with two charging stations on top. So I drove to our vast mall and crossed the concrete to search for Brookstone or The Sharper Image. Both stores had moved out.
I tried jewelry stores. “Try the home section of department stores,” they advised. No luck.
But then, tucked in an alcove, I noticed a diminutive, white-bearded Santa standing behind a glass case filled with 19th and 20th century clocks, wrist watches, and pocket watches like the one my Maine grandfather kept on a chain that curved into his vest pocket.
“Do you have any alarm clocks?” I peered into the case filled with sweeping hands and turning gears.
April Fool Santa frowned. “I might be able to get you one by Monday.” He noticed one on a tall shelf. “I’d forgotten I had this.” He reached for it. “I like things simple.”
By the looks of his inventory he could fix anything. I rummaged in my purse. “Less to break down.”
He dusted the clock with his sleeve. “$15.00.” Half as much as the flimsy Target model that looked as if it would break before I got home. I left the mall, pleased with my purchase.
The clock is quiet. Its hands sweep in a circle—soothing and simple. One basic alarm sound. No beeps. No flashes.