2002-10-07 - 11:11 a.m.
Twenty-eight dollars richer�
Guess I can�t really call that a smashing success but hey�it is a start. This last weekend found me slaving over a hot forge, entertaining the masses (and trying to keep the kiddies from cutting their hands off on the sharp things) at the History Alive event at Norfolk�s Botanical Gardens.
Friday night Badger and I set up the stage for our weekend performance. We had both the coal and gas forge out there, 2 anvils, an assortment of steel, various tools, the post vise, and enough stock on display to choke a horse. This was going to rock�
After set up we headed off to Sandbridge for a little late night fishing. There I was standing on the edge of the Atlantic Ocean, high tide was in, a breeze was blowing in off the water, and it was dark�very dark. We had set up on the beach near the fishing pier so we would have a little light�that way we could see where we were casting and what we were catching.
So armed with my surf rod and fairly fresh mullet, I wandered myself down into the surf. As I looked out across the water I could see the waves coming in, breaking once out near the end of the pier, and then a second time a bout half way to the beach, and then finally against shore. My goal was to drop my line between the second and third line of breakers. So I began to wander myself out into the water�the inky black water of the Atlantic. I passed the first line of breakers, set up for my first cast�and let the line fly. My rig disappeared in to the darkness but I knew that it was a good long cast. I was sure that it made it close to my chosen spot. And then I waited. The swells were rolling in past me on their way to shore, the water sometimes coming as high as my hips�and then it dawned on me. Hmm�self�is this really a smart place to be? Hmm�wasn�t it just last year that we had a few bull shark attacks, one of which occurred right out here in or at least near Sandbridge? Perhaps we had best back up a bit to less deep water. Yeah�lets back up a bit. I took a few deep breaths�and began fishing again. I did find myself going out to that deeper are of water time and time again to cast, but I never really stayed long there. Once my line went out I headed back towards the closest breaker line to wait out the fishies.
As I stood there day (or would this be night) dreaming, staring out across the breakers, I began to wonder why people let their fear control them. I was thinking that if a shark were to come up and decide to make lunch (or dinner in this case) outta me there really was nothing I could do about it. I had two choices, I could continue to fish�and if a shark did show I would have to hope that it passed me up for something smaller/easier to eat�or it would bite me, and I would have to hope that I could get away from it, and that Badger would see to it that I was taken care of. The other option that I had was to let this fear ruin my night of fishing in this beautiful spot, and sulk on the beach thinking to my self�man this sucks�Guess there really was not much of a choice there. I waded back in, fresh bait on my line, passed the first set of breakers, cast my line, and waited for a strike. Within a few minutes I had relaxed again. I was back to enjoying the sights and sounds of the surf and the stars twinkling over head. Yeah, every once in a while I would scan the water around me, looking for the tell tale sign of something large and dangerous swimming near me, but I refused to let that remote possibility ruin my night of fishing. So did I catch much that night? No�not really. I caught an old towel, a bottom rig (fishing stuff), and a 19� Puppy Drum. Not a killer night, but at least I would not have gone hungry either. Was it worth it? Friday night I got to stand in the surf and watch the waves, listen to them break over and over again, stare at the stars as they peeked out from behind the clouds, see the little crabs scuttle across the beach, and watch sand pipers chase down a midnight snack. Was it worth it�oh Hell yeah!
Then came Saturday�
After a long night of fishing, and not enough sleep, I found myself standing in front of a blazing hot forge�My head pounding as if I had the mother of all hangovers (why is it the older I get the more prone I am to hangovers? Hell I didn�t even drink anything the day before). But I refused to let that slow me down. I brought my hammer down, time and time again�forcing metal to take the shape that I chose. Heating, striking, twisting, bending, and cutting until I was satisfied with it�s new form.
It was really easy to get lost in my work�but the excited squeals from the children that surrounded me brought me back time and time again. I would look up from the anvil, and see people young and old staring at me in awe. They would stare as I pulled the orange steel from the forge and then before their eyes transform it into something completely different. Things haven�t changed much over time. There is still something magical about the blacksmith. Here is a man that controls the 4 elements�that combines them�that forces them to obey him. The ring of the anvil acting like the song of the harpy, people drawn to it, hypnotized by it. And as long as the hammer is falling the people will stand there unable to tear their eyes away from the smith. And when he stops, when he returns the iron to the fire, you can see people blink as if awakening from a trance�some walk away, and others ask questions�all the while trying to understand what just happened.
I had thought this was crap when the Badger first told me about this�but after this last weekend I am not so sure. There is an excerpt from a book I have at the house that describes the more clearly that I can. I hope to remember it and post it here tomorrow.
All in all, headache not included, Saturday was a lot of fun. I got to demonstrate for a lot of folks. I heard a lot of ohhs and ahhs, which is always satisfying. And I made some very neat things. Granted I didn�t sell much of anything�but that is ok. I did make a few contacts, and I have a commission order for a Boy Scout group that wants a spit, and assorted goodies for camping. The cool thing was they didn�t even bat an eye when I quoted them a price for the setup. I told them that the spit would run them around $100, and the assorted accessories (forks, spoons, ladles, pokers, and what not) would run from $30 to $50 apiece. The group leader said he would be e-mailing me with the detail�I can hardly wait�this deal could very well pay for my new clutch. Here is hoping that this deal works out.
So today I learned that most folks are just plain stupid. Why is it that when people see knives sitting on at table they feel the need to pick them up and drag their thumb along the edge? Do they not realize that if in fact they are sharp they will cut the shit out of their thumbs? I had to tell more folks at the demo to put the knives down. More to protect them from themselves than anything else. These dumb shits would pick these things up and if given the opportunity, they would cut themselves, and then look at their bloody hand and wonder how that happened�and then blame us for having sharp things around. I just wanted to looks at these assholes and scream �IT�S A GODDAMN KNIFE YOU STUPID SHIT!!! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU EXPECT!!!!!� Why is it that we are forced to protect the stupid? Perhaps if we let them fuck up on their own, and then hold them responsible for what they did�bah who am I fooling�that wont change anything�.
So what have you learned today?
�
�
