Bell Awakening

I have a small brass bell in the form of a victorian woman carrying a mask. Toby recently pointed out to me that her hair is styled in pigtails. I imagine this bell lady off to a festive masked ball. Her long, lean, high-laced boots dangle and clank inside a long flowing skirt.

This curious object came to me from the home of my grandmother, Evelyn. She called us to meals with another bell, a small silver dome with a pushbutton on top...the kind of bell found on the counter of a shop. Her german immigrant father, Carl, was proprietor of Oelkers Dry Goods, located on the edge of the Erie Canal in North Tonawanda.

My grandmother's home was rich with sound. A clock on the bookcase in the living room bonged hourly to match the passing of time. Church bells in a nearby steeple sent soothing sounds through the neighborhood several times each day. Whenever I hear that particular bell tone, I find myself transported to a painted wicker rocker on that North Tonawanda front porch, tall oak trees rustling in the breeze.

Bell sounds in my present neighborhood offer a strange comfort. Just today I noticed the bells chiming to the tune of AMERICA THE BEAUTIFUL coming from the church belltower next to the Amherst Street Wegmans.

Alarm clock, door bell, oven timer, seatbelt chime...bells warn, invite, announce, celebrate...wake us up to the freshness of the moment.