The Anvil

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.

Guess My Weight

Trenton Blacksmith’s Anvil

 

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About The Twentieth Man

Age 66
This entry was posted in For Feminists, Observations, Personal History, Short Stories and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to The Anvil

  1. I was in the market for an anvil for quite a long time, and almost gave up, until a colleague who was an expert vintage hunter found one for me. It was set in a large tree trunk – close to 100 lbs. Thanks for the post- the image really caught my eye.

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