My Grandma Ruby Emma (Blohm) Neal (1898-1991) grew up in the small town of Dexter, Iowa. Her father, George Amus Blohm, was born on Pellworm Island, Germany.
This story is from Ruby’s unpublished memoir called From Prairies to Plazas–From Meadows to Malls:
The Village Blacksmith
I’m glad that I lived where I could pass two blacksmith shops on my way to and from school. I used to stop and watch them shoe a horse or work at the forge and see the sparks fly. They always wore a leather apron and would take the horse’s hoof on their knee to nail the show on. Some horses stood perfectly quiet and some did not. They [the blacksmiths] did have sinewy arms, as the poem said. [The Village Blacksmith by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow]
I became fascinated with horseshoes and it never had occurred to me that horses hooves differ just as people’s feet. The blacksmith had to heat the shoe and shape it to the horse’s hoof. A work horse had big feet while a riding horse had smaller feet.
In the winter a horse that was used on the road had to be shod or their hooves would wear away or split. Sometimes a horse would lose a shoe and have to be re-shod. Sometimes a hoof would have to be trimmed as the hooves would be uneven. The blacksmith also repaired wagons and wheels and some machinery.
I collected quite a few horseshoes and even brought some with me to town [after Grandpa Kenneth Neal died] and hung them in the garage. I wanted to bring more, but I didn’t think the family would like it. Knowing that I liked horseshoes and wanted some small ones, like for a pony, an old horseshoer sent me three after I moved to town. Not having a car, I made my garage into a porch or solarium. It was always cool out there in the summertime. . . .
Ruby Neal, Dad’s mother, was my only grandparent who completed high school, graduating from Dexter High School in 1916.
She married Kenneth Neal that November and my dad, Warren Neal, was their firstborn. Ruby was also my quilting grandma.
Grandma was right about her welcoming garage. We never used her front door, just went into the kitchen from the garage. After Grandma moved to the Stuart Care Center, her son and his wife, Bill and Helen, moved into her house in town. Bill had helped build the house. I wonder whether those cheerful horseshoes were still in the garage.
How blessed you are to have these stories. This is a wonderful one.
Elaine, I got interested in genealogy while we still lived in Idaho. A book suggested asking older family members to write down their stories, and both grandmas did! Because we wrote back and forth, there’s also information in letters from back then.
Very interesting. I have one of her horseshoe trivets in my kitchen. I did not know the rest of the story. Thanks, Joy!
I’m thankful that one of them still exists. Judy, I typed up Grandma’s memoir, printed out on a dot matrix printer, and sent copies to cousins, so you might have one lurking around! It’s 26 pages long and ends with lists of businesses in Dexter in 1912 and in 1978.
This is a wonderfully nostalgic read, Joy. I hope you post more excerpts from your Grandma Ruby’s unpublished book. 😁🧲
Bless you, Nancy. If you click her name at the bottom of the story, you’ll find a few more.
How fortunate you have Ruby’s unpublished memoir. You are making her stories come alive!
Marian, a genealogy book (even before Guy was sent to Vietnam) suggested asking older relatives to write down their histories, so I did. And both grandmother’s did! Grandma Leora’s, also with research and memories of others, became the “Leora trilogy,” as well Meadowlark Songs and more. Grandma Ruby’s isn’t as long, but I’m having fun with several of the things she wrote about.
A lovely memoir,
Thank you so much.
I love this. I still have a horseshoe from my father’s ranch. It means a lot to me.
Thank you, Darlene. I just learned that one of my cousins has one.
Fascinating memory piece from Grandma Ruby! Horseshoes do hold a certain fascination.
Thank you, Liz. Especially for a “town girl.”
You’re welcome, Joy.
So lovely, Joy. A peek into history. On hubby Paul’s side of the family, we learned a local tavern was once a barn and blacksmith shop in the late 1800’s…supposedly still the oldest tavern/restaurant in Illinois still in business. Whenever we’re there, I think about the old wood and the stories the rafters and fireplace could tell. Probably not unlike Ruby’s peek into the blacksmith shop, fascinated by horseshoes. Thanks for another treat, my friend. xo! 💝😊💝
It’s still there! I love that, Vicki. How I wish I’d asked Grandma to show me (you know, driving around town) where she lived and where the blacksmiths were. I DO know the school because my grade school years were in that old brick building. She’d would have told even more stories, I bet!
You’re right — so many stories, but look at all the terrific pieces of family history you’ve rounded up! Amazing, dear Joy!
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