26 October 2011
I'd like to take a second
Denny Bryant was a hell of a man. While I never got to know him to the extent of the men and women in the farrier business in San Diego County, California, he still had an impact on my dad and I.
At one point when Dad was having an issue forging shoes, Don Reed sent him to Denny for help. Denny was also nice enough to tell me stories about different things from shoeing harness horses to his thoughts on the Buck Branaman clinic he attended. Once Denny was wearing a horse hair belt which he proudly proclaimed he had paid $20 an inch for it's production and was kind enough to laugh when I suggested that he had eighty bucks wrapped up in the deal (Denny was a slight man for those of you who didn't benefit from knowing him.) Most of all, was the day he stood watching me forge shoes at a clinic and he told me no matter what anyone else ever told me, that I belonged behind an anvil. That I fit there. That statement coming from him meant as much or more as anything I have ever been told. (Denny also laughed when I responded that I wish Homer Tosh had survived to hear him say that, but that is a story for another day.)
So as farriers do we celebrated Denny's life with a contest named in his honor. Building a replica of shoe Denny had built, a fullered harness horse hind with calks. Rightly so Jason Harmeson won the class with a pretty spot on match to the original. I gave a good effort and took second. All things considered, I'll take it.
Though I wasn't a "San Diego" guy, I still treasured Denny as many people did. A cigarette and a coffee before the clinic or a cigarette and a beer after dinner, it was always a highlight to visit and get something from him. A laugh, a though, a story.
At one point when Dad was having an issue forging shoes, Don Reed sent him to Denny for help. Denny was also nice enough to tell me stories about different things from shoeing harness horses to his thoughts on the Buck Branaman clinic he attended. Once Denny was wearing a horse hair belt which he proudly proclaimed he had paid $20 an inch for it's production and was kind enough to laugh when I suggested that he had eighty bucks wrapped up in the deal (Denny was a slight man for those of you who didn't benefit from knowing him.) Most of all, was the day he stood watching me forge shoes at a clinic and he told me no matter what anyone else ever told me, that I belonged behind an anvil. That I fit there. That statement coming from him meant as much or more as anything I have ever been told. (Denny also laughed when I responded that I wish Homer Tosh had survived to hear him say that, but that is a story for another day.)
So as farriers do we celebrated Denny's life with a contest named in his honor. Building a replica of shoe Denny had built, a fullered harness horse hind with calks. Rightly so Jason Harmeson won the class with a pretty spot on match to the original. I gave a good effort and took second. All things considered, I'll take it.
Though I wasn't a "San Diego" guy, I still treasured Denny as many people did. A cigarette and a coffee before the clinic or a cigarette and a beer after dinner, it was always a highlight to visit and get something from him. A laugh, a though, a story.
Subscribe to Posts [Atom]
Post a Comment