Ring my bell, ding-dong-ding

Our story so far: After moving into the old Methodist church we had converted into a home, we mounted repairs to the belfry with the intention of ringing the bell, which had sat silent for some time because parts of the tower were rotted.

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wrapped pilings
That’s a wrap.

The following day, You-Can-Call-Me-Al and Reroofer climbed back up into the belfry to wrap the now heftier pilings in waterproof net. And as long as he was up there, You-Can-Call-Me-Al decided to test the heft by ringing the bell.

If you can’t find it on Amazon or eBay, you don’t need it.

Reroofer rang the bell when he was repairing the roof beneath it the previous fall, but he did it carefully and by hitting the stationary bell. Now, You-Can-Call-Me-Al stood on the ledge of the bell tower, grabbed the circular crank and pulled (this is the mechanism to which a rope is usually tied—we removed the worn-out old rope intending to replace it with a new one of impressive diameter). The bell swung, and the clapper made contact.

Tyler and I stood on the ground, watching to see if the tower swayed. Standing on the tower and confident of his work, You-Can-Call-Me-Al assured us it was solid.

He rang the bell wildly.

The tower stood immovable.

Our bell sounded full and melodious. It was lovely. I watched, smiling widely.

A passersby on a nearby sidewalk asked me if we planned to ring the bell at three o’clock in the morning. Maybe she was worried.

“No,” I said. “But maybe at midnight on New Year’s Eve.”

“That would be OK,” she said.

OK? That would be awesome!

You-Can-Call-Me-Al tested our bell a few more times. No police showed up, so the neighbors must have been either happy to hear it or willing to bear it.

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Tomorrow: You-Can-Call-Me-Al shouldn’t have all the fun. Read about our first bell-ringing here.

4 thoughts on “Ring my bell, ding-dong-ding

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