'To Glorify Things Just Because They Are'

My father by trade was an ironworker and on the side he ran a welding business. The garage was his workshop. There he kept the usual oxy-acetylene gear, used when he was making wrought-iron railings. For certain jobs he relied on the arc welder. Whenever the lights in the house flickered we knew he was using it. The drain on power was enormous. To this day, whenever the lights dim during an electrical storm, I think of my father and his welding shop. I also think of “Blacksmith Shop” by Czesław Miłosz: “I liked the bellows operated by rope. A hand or foot pedal – I don’t remember which. But that blowing, and the blazing of the fire! And a piece of iron in the fire, held there by tongs, Red, softened for the anvil, Beaten with a hammer, bent into a horseshoe, Thrown into a bucket of water, sizzle, steam. And horses hitched to be shod, Tossing their manes; and in the grass by the river Plowshares, sledge runners, harrows waiting for repair At the entrance, my bare feet on the dirt…