When we bought our farm, my parents went in search of the bell they used at their home to give to us. They had once upon a time mounted it on a one and a half story high support structure so my mom could ring it from the kitchen window (they live in a bi-level, with the kitchen and living room upstairs). As kids, my brother and I knew to stop playing kickball or capture the flag and come running when we heard that bell. As the years passed, when the support began to decay my dad decided to just take the bell down, after all we were grown and got our own dinners by this time. He ended up giving the bell to a neighbor to mount in their yard. (Fast forward 10 plus years) When my dad approached our neighbor, Mr. Kummerer, he kindly relinquished the bell and my dad brought it out to the farm.
But what was I going to do with it! We were deep in the midst of moving, new life, farm/church crazy-i-NESS, who and how was that bell going to get hung? It sat in our driveway for a few weeks threatening to break the toes of the unwary, while I contemplated Mike's impossible schedule and my ineptitude with power tools. When the good Lord gave me an inspiration, "Rich!" Our friend and neighbor had made us a bird feeder "tree" as house warming gift, I decided to secretly hire Rich to make the bell support. He did great job and we mounted the bell by our side door, where we pass daily. As we hung it up, I was admiring the new paint job and caught sight of the date printed on the bell, I had never seen that because growing up the bell was way up out if reach.
The number looks to be 1888. Two hundred and thirty years, give or take! Just because something is old doesn't mean it can't ring true!
I thought of the bell as I wrote the previous post about cliches, some things don't age well, some become hopelessly dated minutes after being created, but things that are good, true, noble, lovely and pure hold up quite well, like the kindness of family and friends, good neighbors, and fine craftmanship. So when I need someone from the far end of the field I ring the bell that called me home as a kid.