I just returned from my grandfather William Franzen’s funeral. He lived a few months short of his 92nd birthday. There was much to distinguish him. He was married for 67 years. He fought in WW2. He had a good number of children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren (and one great-great-grandchild). He was also a very mechanically gifted fellow. His mechanical giftedness manifested itself in many ways but particularly in his tendency to collect and make clocks. The night before his funeral I was in his old bedroom and I counted eight clocks (some digital, but many of them ticking) as well as two clocks in the connected bathroom. To stand in his room (and almost anywhere in his house) is to enjoy a symphony of syncopation. Two thoughts occurred to me. The first was that the clocks that ticked for him tick for me. The secondhand turns at the same speed for everyone. The other happier thought was that he was now with his Lord and Savior in a place where time shall be no more.
This is a quick sketch I made of him a few years ago while he slept in his chair.
And here is a postcard that he sent my grandmother while in the Army during the Second World War.