Some time in the late ’50’s or early ’60’s a local blacksmith closed shop and retired. My father bought up his forge and anvil along with a few rough-and-ready tools – hammers and tongs, chisels and even some horseshoes as well. I just happened to be present when “B” asked my father for my sister’s hand in marriage. Before my father would give his consent to this union he proposed a test of strength for the earnest young suitor. In order to prove himself worthy, “B” had to lift and carry the anvil sitting out in the yard. I’m not sure if this was done for all my sisters, but I bear witness to the fact that “B” passed the test, and the rest, as they say, is history.