When our daughter Kaley was about two years old, she'd gaze up-transfixed-- as grandfather wound the exquisite clock he'd created out of rough walnut planks.

A grandfather clock with a hand-painted face, ornate finials and a rich, warm sheen.

The steady ticking and hourly chimes filled the snug house in Langhorne.

One day as Kaley watched the weekly ritual, grandfather leaned down and said in his steady, deep voice, "Kaley, some day this clock will be yours."

And so it was that the grandfather clock recently traveled 2800 miles cross country to it's new home in California, just over the Golden Gate Bridge.

Willy had worried about this journey. "Will it be safe in earthquake country? " he asked, just as a father would ask as his child set off on a wilderness trek.

Carefully disassembled, cushioned in packing, a wise clockman re-assembled it, setting the pendulum swinging.

We'd also worried about the clock. Where would we put it? What if we broke it? It was like taking in a beloved child with few parenting skills. But the clock knew what it needed and quickly found its own wall-perfectly placed between sturdy studs-for earthquake-strapping.

And as soon as the ticking started, we were transported back to Teddy and Willy's un-assuming home, filled with Willy's masterpieces. I could feel my body relax, the same way it would when we'd walk through the door into Teddy and Willy's embraces.

Generations grew up amid Willy's legacy of antique reproductions carved and smoothed to a velvet finish. Now they are our heirlooms. British and American 18th century-style chests and tables, highboys and grandfather clock, they unite the Diamond clan from coast to coast.

Each piece is a memory box. Like the bedroom set. For over seven decades, Teddy and Willy slept in the mahogany bed he'd carved for his bride. Today, our guests are treated to a deep sleep in their bed.

Many of us were married under Willy's chuppah and feasted around a miraculously expanding drop-leaf table. Touch a silky bureau top and you can feel Willy's hands sanding and polishing until the curly maple glows a deep honey-amber. Open a highboy drawer and the smooth glide whispers of perfect dovetail joints.

When grandchildren visited his shop, he guided tiny hands trying to work a spoke shaver. Mostly, they soaked up the smell and feel of grandfather coaxing beauty out of trees.

If Willy was the family oak, then his creations are the limbs, forming a canopy that grows with each treasure passed on to the next Diamond. The wood speaks of more than perfection. It resonates with a warmth and beauty and caring that we all found in Teddy and Willy's home. Their niece Tina Mullins recalls how it infused her with peace.

"I think about your mom's statements like 'What can be bad?.' Or you dad taking his walks or listening to the radio news. Nothing ever was rushed...never heard harsh words...they seem to take life in stride. The two of them helped shape my life by reminding me to just keep one foot in front of the other keep working at your goals, one step at a time, and you will get there. When I need to unclutter and simplify my life, when I need to keep from being overwhelmed or get focused, I channel your parents and ask myself...how would they handle this situation."

The grandfather clock, nestled against a wall in our living room, ticks out that message. It brings me back to sitting quietly beside Teddy and Willy or watching him walk up and down the street with an infant grandchild on his shoulder. "See that bird up in the tree," he'd say in that slow, deep voice... "Look at the flower," lulling them to sleep.

As sturdy and calming as the quiet reassurance of a grandfather clock as it chimes out time.