by J. Beaver
    The reckoning of time throughout the ages is an endlessly fascinating subject for study. As human civilization has evolved into increasingly more complex and dynamic systems of organized activity and achievement, time pieces have accordingly attained greater and greater importance, and they have been designed to offer an increasingly remarkable level of accuracy to fill these needs. Indeed, much of modern life is absolutely dependent upon a universally agreed upon standard for time keeping and those ingenious devices that assure us all of being constantly informed of its inexorable passage. Quite predictably, antique and collectible clocks, sundials and watches have become a multi-million dollar industry that promises to continue its remarkable growth in the years to come.
    Considering these facts, it seems unlikely that an unremarkable, old plastic General Electric clock from the 1960s should be of much significance in the larger scheme of things. After all, literally millions of these model 2128A clocks were produced in the 60s by G.E. in a number of attractive colors ranging from off white to almond brown.  And yet, the odyssey of a certain one of these clocks here at 3219 West Joan De Arc Avenue borders on a journey of mythical proportions. For it is this very clock, the legendary "Bueker Family Room clock," that has just such a singular story to tell.
    Barbara Bueker's older brother, one Gerald Swaggerty, is the personage with whom this remarkable tale begins. On Christmas Eve 1965, Mr. Swaggerty presented the Bueker family with the G.E. 2128A clock as a perfectly pleasant if not overwhelmingly exciting holiday gift. After a brief discussion of the possible locations for the new clock within their home, Barbara and husband Carl settled upon a wooden panel looking out over the Bueker family room, the selection of which led to an immediate complication. Since there was no convenient access to an electrical outlet in this area of the room, Carl  was obliged to drill a small hole in the wood paneling and directly access the household electrical current for the clock's energy source. And there the G.E. 2128A clock remained, year in and year out, greeting the Bueker family members at the beginning of each new day and telling them when to go off to bed at night throughout the 60s and well into the 70s.
    When the Bueker family finally bade a fond farewell to Joan De Arc in 1977, the G.E. clock was left in place, apparently since its removal would have entailed the reversal of Carl Bueker's original electrical wizardry when the clock was attached twelve long years earlier. The clock might well still reside there to this very day, had it not been for an unlikely sequence of events that transpired at a small neighborhood party at Bill and Helen Mitchell's home one summer night some five years hence.
    The four Bueker children, Susan, Barbara, Charles and John, were in attendance at the festivities and enjoying alcoholic refreshments in varying degrees of indulgence. Typical of the time, John (CEO, publisher and editor of the Crusader) was the most accomplished imbiber of the evening, and at some point he apparently wandered outside the Mitchell home and engaged Mrs. Smith next door in a friendly conversation regarding God knows what. Although no doubt disturbed at John's less than lucid state of consciousness, Mrs. Smith was to her credit as friendly and kind as always, and she graciously offered to walk the Bueker siblings over to their former residence to meet their successors at 3219 West Joan De Arc Avenue, the Killes.
    Following the appropriate introductions, the Bueker sibs were admitted into the house for an informal tour of their former digs, an unexpected treat of the highest order. Upon entering the family room area of the house, John immediately spotted a very familiar sight. Very familiar indeed. For lo, there it hung, in the very same location as always, attached to the wooden panel above the counter space. The Bueker's G.E. 2128A clock.
    "That's our clock!" cried John, who was simultaneously amazed and confused by the clock's extant presence on the wall of his old house. Though decidedly impaired, or perhaps due to this very fact, he demanded a prompt explanation from his somewhat startled hosts.
    "What is our clock still doing there?" he inquired emphatically, if somewhat unsteadily. After being informed that the clock had been left behind in the wake of the Buekers' exodus from Joan De Arc, John expressed his deepest regrets at this unfortunate oversight and soon sadly returned to the Mitchell home to resume his partying, resigned to the fate of the forsaken clock of his youth.
    The story would have been there concluded and long since forgotten, had it not been for the thoughtful generosity of Retha Kille, who was apparently touched by John Bueker's intoxicated lament for his long lost timepiece. Ms. Kille eventually had the clock removed from its lifelong perch above the family room at 3219, and handed it over to the Mitchells, with the request that it be sent along to John.
    Bill Mitchell cleaned the device and attached a new plug so that it could be inserted into an outlet, and then transferred possession to Barbara (Bueker) Stewart for its final disposition. Suffice it to say that John received a wonderfully unexpected and "timely" (you knew it was coming) gift on Christmas Eve 1989, 24 years to the day after the Buekers originally received the G.E. 2128A clock from Gerald Swaggerty. The card on the carefully wrapped gift read "From the Ghost of Christmas Past," and so it was. It has remained in John Bueker's possession ever since.
    The Bueker G.E. clock now adorns the wall overlooking John and Sue Bueker's family room in Peoria, still works remarkably well, and will tonight ring in its 38th Christmas Eve.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________JDA