Grandpa’s anvil

Certain things are handed down from one generation to the next. There’s fancy fine china that belonged to someone’s great grandmother, a shotgun that hangs on the mantle over the fireplace that used to shoot birds in the stubble fields some 60 years ago. Every family has something that is important to them. From one generation to the next, the care and responsibility of these items get passed between older to younger members of the family. I’ve got a few of these items, a pair of chaps that belonged to my grandma’s uncle, a few saddles that could tell all kinds of stories about the leather that was worn off the tree, and a watch that was given to me by an uncle who served in the Marines. One of my favorite things is probably the one that I use the most.

Down in the shop there stands an old anvil on a homemade stand. That anvil belonged to my grandpa. He built the stand that it sits on and probably shaped more iron over the horn than I have ever handled in my life. The anvil used to sit in the shop at Grandpa’s house, but now it’s become a part of my tool collection. I don’t have any idea how old this anvil is, but I know it predates me by several years. There’s hammer marks all over the top from years of shaping horseshoes, straightening sickle bars, bending rod for gate levers, and a host of other things that are needed on the ranch.

It’s not the anvil itself that really means that much to me, but the memories that I have of my grandfather teaching me how to use it. December and January are often too cold for much work to get done outside once the feeding chores have been done and the ice has been broken on all the tanks. It was during this time of the year that we would often find ourselves inside the shop working on various projects to occupy our time and keep us busy. We would build a fire in the old pot belly stove in the middle of the shop, draw out plans for whatever we were working on, and begin cutting, heating, bending and welding iron until our plans would turn into a working piece of equipment.

We built cattle guards and repaired windmill towers, packed bearings and replaced oil seals on trailer hubs, built gates and even made yard art for grandma’s flower garden. There was a demolition derby car that was built and an old Minneapolis-Moline tractor that got restored in that shop. The steady ring of the hammer striking iron on the anvil was like sweet music to my ears as it meant that progress was being made on a project. We made our fair share of mistakes in that shop, and likely some of them had to be corrected with a little heat and the swing of a hammer over the horn of the anvil. That shop taught my brother and I the basics of mechanics, of taking care of machinery, and of creating something from nothing with a simple plan and some effort.

It’s kind of corny I know to put so much value on a simple piece of heavy steel, but every time we shaped iron on that anvil, it was also shaping my character as a man. The years have gone by, and some of the memories have faded a bit, but on most cold days you will still find me down in the shop with a wood fire burning for warmth, and a hammer making that anvil ring like a bell as I work on some new project to make my life a little easier. That’s all for this time, keep tabs on your side of the barbed wire and have a happy New Year. God bless.

Meinzer is a fourth-generation rancher raised on the southeastern plains of Colorado. He and his family live and ranch in Oshkosh, Neb.