Lord of the Anvil: The Journey for The Precious

[esantoro]

Once every two years I need to leave New York City for America. That time had arrived. Harbor Freight came out with a sale on its 55lbs and 15 lbs anvils, and there were a bunch of other things I had been dying to get. I couldn't just get these mail order, but had to visit an actual location.

A year after moving to New York City, I gave my car away, so I had to figure out public transportation to Harbor Freight in New Jersey. I'm originally from Southern California,where all of this would have been a twenty-minute car trip to the nearest big hardware store (thirty minutes, if you count the fast-food drive-up). But in NYC, this was much more of an adventure.

Once I figured which Jersey bus would allow my escape from the City, an ordeal in itself, I pulled a Springsteen and an CCR. I got out past the "Bergen County line" and got "Stuck in Lodi". Now I know where Lodi is and why one would not want to be stuck there.

I bought some oilers and spring clamps, in addition to 70 lbs of cast iron anvils, lugged it on my hand cart through the streets of Saddle Brook, New Jersey, and made my way back to "The City".

I felt like an 18th century trapper making a day's trek to trade his skins for much needed supplies and then returning home. Very satisfying in a way a 20-minute car trip could never be, though I did take subway trains and buses.

The whole journey took about seven hours. It gave me time to ponder what is so special about an anvil. It is this. The computer, the automobile, the space shuttle, the space station, the Internet, and the tallest building in the world can all be reduced to basic components and processes. The Anvil is among the most basic of these. Without the Anvil, as without the wheel, technological progress does not advance. Without the ability to pound steel upon steel, we would still be fearing the sound of thunder and the flash of lighting.

Yes...That's it.

Edited May 25, 2008 by esantoro

[Johanna]

Johanna pours Ed a tall stiff drink and gazes fondly at her hammer & flat iron collection.

[Bob]

Esantoro, it seems you been in "The City life" too long. I couldn't imagine life without a vehicle of some sort. Even a bicycle is better than nothing... A horse? Not your talking... Ever watch "City Slickers" ??

New York City? a nice place to visit, tons of things to see and do. Shop for tools till yer broke flat....

OKOK, dinner's burnin'

[esantoro]

Esantoro, it seems you been in "The City life" too long. I couldn't imagine life without a vehicle of some sort. Even a bicycle is better than nothing... A horse? Not your talking... Ever watch "City Slickers" ??

New York City? a nice place to visit, tons of things to see and do. Shop for tools till yer broke flat....

OKOK, dinner's burnin'

I used to think, "Who the hell would want to live in New York City. For me, it's still a love-hate relationship. The City kicks you around, but it offers you also a glimmer of the possibilities. You go to bed vowing that tomorrow you'll show The City where it can Put It. Your frustration is located on a single, physical, tangible, object. Coming in from Jersey, across the Hudson, or eyeing it from Brooklyn, across the East River, it is a magnificent Son-of-a-Bitch. It is one of the wildest sights I have ever seen -- wilder than the Grand Canyon, wilder than atop Mt. Whitney,wilder than Yellowstone, wilder than Niagara Falls, wilder than the Montana Badlands, wilder than the Mississippi. Every time I take the train across the Williamsburg Bridge, I get goosebumps. The steel, brick and mortar renting the sky, smoke and steam whisking the rooftops. It would not be out of place to see Tyrannosauruses lashing through the asphalt canyons, pterodactyls buzzing skyscrapers, and volcanoes spewing molten lava. New York City is the youngest oldest place on Earth. It is prehistorically modern.

On the ride home today, I read posted on the subway, something written by E.B. White, something that stuck:

"There are roughly three New Yorks. There is, first, the New York of the man or woman who was born there, who takes the city for granted and accepts its size, its turbulence as natural and inevitable. Second, there is the New York of the commuter--the city that is devoured by locusts each day and spat out each night. Third, there is New York of the person who was born somewhere else and came to New York in quest of something. Of these trembling cities the greatest is the last [...]. It is this third city that accounts for New York’s high strung disposition, its poetical deportment, its dedication to the arts, and its incomparable achievements. Commuters give the city its tidal restlessness, natives give it solidity and continuity, but the settlers give it passion. And whether it is a farmer arriving from a small town in Mississippi to escape the indignity of being observed by her neighbors, or a boy arriving from the Corn Belt with a manuscript in his suitcase and a pain in his heart, it makes no difference: each embraces New York with the intense excitement of first love, each absorbs New York with the fresh yes of an adventurer, each generates heat and light to dwarf the Consolidated Edison Company. . . .

(from E.B. White's "Here Is New York")

Here is someone's comment on the web that adds to what I realized a bit more today:

The city, for the first time in its long history, is destructible. A single flight of planes no bigger than a wedge of geese can quickly end this island fantasy, burn the towers, crumble the bridges, turn the underground passages into lethal chambers, cremate the millions. The intimation of mortality is part of New York now; in the sounds of jets overhead, in the black headlines of the latest editions.

All dwellers in cities must live with the stubborn fact of annihilation; in New York the fact is somewhat more concentrated because of the concentration of the city itself, and because, of all targets, New York has a certain clear priority. In the mind of whatever perverted dreamer might loose the lightning, New York must hold a steady, irresistible charm.

Ed -- who is still dizzy from the day's epiphanies

Johanna, might I have another? Thanks.

[TwinOaks]

To quote the song "Sunscreen", artist unremembered: "Live in Northern California, but leave before it makes you soft. Live in New York, but leave before it makes you hard."

[esantoro]

To quote the song "Sunscreen", artist unremembered: "Live in Northern California, but leave before it makes you soft. Live in New York, but leave before it makes you hard."

That's what we're talkin' about. That's it exactly.

Thank you, TwinOaks.

http://www.bondon.com/sunscreen_song.html

Edited May 25, 2008 by esantoro

[esantoro]

I've got the travel bug and am going abroad again tomorrow.

ed

[esantoro]

Once every two years I need to leave New York City for America. That time had arrived. Harbor Freight came out with a sale on its 55lbs and 15 lbs anvils, and there were a bunch of other things I had been dying to get. I couldn't just get these mail order, but had to visit an actual location.

A year after moving to New York City, I gave my car away, so I had to figure out public transportation to Harbor Freight in New Jersey. I'm originally from Southern California,where all of this would have been a twenty-minute car trip to the nearest big hardware store (thirty minutes, if you count the fast-food drive-up). But in NYC, this was much more of an adventure.

Once I figured which Jersey bus would allow my escape from the City, an ordeal in itself, I pulled a Springsteen and an CCR. I got out past the "Bergen County line" and got "Stuck in Lodi". Now I know where Lodi is and why one would not want to be stuck there.

I bought some oilers and spring clamps, in addition to 70 lbs of cast iron anvils, lugged it on my hand cart through the streets of Saddle Brook, New Jersey, and made my way back to "The City".

I felt like an 18th century trapper making a day's trek to trade his skins for much needed supplies and then returning home. Very satisfying in a way a 20-minute car trip could never be, though I did take subway trains and buses.

The whole journey took about seven hours. It gave me time to ponder what is so special about an anvil. It is this. The computer, the automobile, the space shuttle, the space station, the Internet, and the tallest building in the world can all be reduced to basic components and processes. The Anvil is among the most basic of these. Without the Anvil, as without the wheel, technological progress does not advance. Without the ability to pound steel upon steel, we would still be fearing the sound of thunder and the flash of lighting.

Yes...That's it.

Just found out on YouTube that CCR was singing about Lodi, California. Ahh, well.

[calanneh]

Johanna pours Ed a tall stiff drink and gazes fondly at her hammer & flat iron collection.

William advices to NOT use the hammer until the drink wears off......

[Bree]

Yes Ed...

You will enjoy the 55 pounder. It is one of my trusted companions... and I didn't even have to Escape From New York to get it! Over here in Upstate NY we have TWO Harbor Freights in the Buffalo burbs. I almost went over there tonight just to wander around. Heck I own 1/2 of the store already!!

[steveb]

I used to think, "Who the hell would want to live in New York City. For me, it's still a love-hate relationship. The City kicks you around, but it offers you also a glimmer of the possibilities. You go to bed vowing that tomorrow you'll show The City where it can Put It. Your frustration is located on a single, physical, tangible, object. Coming in from Jersey, across the Hudson, or eyeing it from Brooklyn, across the East River, it is a magnificent Son-of-a-Bitch. It is one of the wildest sights I have ever seen -- wilder than the Grand Canyon, wilder than atop Mt. Whitney,wilder than Yellowstone, wilder than Niagara Falls, wilder than the Montana Badlands, wilder than the Mississippi. Every time I take the train across the Williamsburg Bridge, I get goosebumps. The steel, brick and mortar renting the sky, smoke and steam whisking the rooftops. It would not be out of place to see Tyrannosauruses lashing through the asphalt canyons, pterodactyls buzzing skyscrapers, and volcanoes spewing molten lava. New York City is the youngest oldest place on Earth. It is prehistorically modern.

On the ride home today, I read posted on the subway, something written by E.B. White, something that stuck:

"There are roughly three New Yorks. There is, first, the New York of the man or woman who was born there, who takes the city for granted and accepts its size, its turbulence as natural and inevitable. Second, there is the New York of the commuter--the city that is devoured by locusts each day and spat out each night. Third, there is New York of the person who was born somewhere else and came to New York in quest of something. Of these trembling cities the greatest is the last [...]. It is this third city that accounts for New York's high strung disposition, its poetical deportment, its dedication to the arts, and its incomparable achievements. Commuters give the city its tidal restlessness, natives give it solidity and continuity, but the settlers give it passion. And whether it is a farmer arriving from a small town in Mississippi to escape the indignity of being observed by her neighbors, or a boy arriving from the Corn Belt with a manuscript in his suitcase and a pain in his heart, it makes no difference: each embraces New York with the intense excitement of first love, each absorbs New York with the fresh yes of an adventurer, each generates heat and light to dwarf the Consolidated Edison Company. . . .

(from E.B. White's "Here Is New York")

Here is someone's comment on the web that adds to what I realized a bit more today:

The city, for the first time in its long history, is destructible. A single flight of planes no bigger than a wedge of geese can quickly end this island fantasy, burn the towers, crumble the bridges, turn the underground passages into lethal chambers, cremate the millions. The intimation of mortality is part of New York now; in the sounds of jets overhead, in the black headlines of the latest editions.

All dwellers in cities must live with the stubborn fact of annihilation; in New York the fact is somewhat more concentrated because of the concentration of the city itself, and because, of all targets, New York has a certain clear priority. In the mind of whatever perverted dreamer might loose the lightning, New York must hold a steady, irresistible charm.

Ed -- who is still dizzy from the day's epiphanies

Johanna, might I have another? Thanks.

Great!

Ed - being a native NYC'er and squarely in the "2nd group" of new yorkers..i can say wholeheartedly that i loved your story, your tale of adventure! You also proved a great thing about the Tri-State area - that you can get around with a few $ and a map of public transpo. Travelling off peak commuting hourse helps mightily. Although i grew up here, I lived away for many years and also missed "home" which to me means NYC. The follks are the friendliest Ive met anywhere, and getting around is a possiblity. For years, bus, trains, planes, cabs, walking and bicycle were my only modes of getting around and I never suffered a day for it..makes you crafty and strategic in how you plan your adventures.

I have the mid-tier of your anvils and use it daily..i lust for the 55lb beauty!

I loved your story, regale me anytime!

steveb

[esantoro]

Great!

Ed - being a native NYC'er and squarely in the "2nd group" of new yorkers..i can say wholeheartedly that i loved your story, your tale of adventure! You also proved a great thing about the Tri-State area - that you can get around with a few $ and a map of public transpo. Travelling off peak commuting hourse helps mightily. Although i grew up here, I lived away for many years and also missed "home" which to me means NYC. The follks are the friendliest Ive met anywhere, and getting around is a possiblity. For years, bus, trains, planes, cabs, walking and bicycle were my only modes of getting around and I never suffered a day for it..makes you crafty and strategic in how you plan your adventures.

I have the mid-tier of your anvils and use it daily..i lust for the 55lb beauty!

I loved your story, regale me anytime!

steveb

Steve,

I've also found New Yorkers to be the friendliest people. It has been written that in liberal Berkeley, California, you will find the meanest people. I believe it. In California there is a dark, nasty underbelly to the Wal-Mart greeting. People in New York feel the jostling and battering that takes place daily and sincerely enjoy and appreciate human contact when it happens. We Americans escape to California to get away from human contact. When we do have it, it is mostly on the level of the Wall-Mart Greeter. Emotional and physical isolation in the West that is the darkness. In New York, you may feel battered and beaten rushing against the crowd to get up or down subway steps only to fight your way into a crowded subway car. It often feels like Sisyphean labor, but the magic happens once you are able to accept your place and stop fighting, once you are able to smell the sweat and the stink and take in the filth and the beauty. Strangely, every so strangely, you lean just a little more against the person nearest you, to be both bolstered against the jolts of the train and reminded that you are human. You find yourself at peace and have forgotten what an asshole your boss is. You smile, only to return and do it all over again the next day. And if you ever do return to California, Mars would be a more attractive place. Perhaps it is true: "You can't go home again."

ed

[TrooperChuck]

You folks surely have revealled something to me that I've always wondered about... Why would any intelligent person live in one of those huge cities? Now, I have a little bit of an understanding. Thanks for that.

Personally, though, I'll stay here in northeast Washington. I get more visits from bears, mountian lions, deer and elk than I do from people. The little village where I get my mail is so small that our post office is a room in someone's house. And, it's quiet... So quiet that on a winter night, when I stand outside and marvel at the beauty of the stars sometimes the only thing I can hear is my own breathing.

The great thing about this forum is that there are people from all over the world. Just by visiting this site we benefit from the wisdom, knowledge, and experience of many others.

I like that.