Frostie Root Beer clock

The clock that hung in columnist John Moore’s grandfather’s blacksmith shop. 

My grandfather was driving us back from Broken Bow, Oklahoma. It was late on a Saturday night. At least it was late for me. My bedtime was usually 8 o’clock. It was at least 8:30 p.m., and I was tired.

My grandfather was a blacksmith. He went to Oklahoma each Saturday for an auction a woman named Barbara held. It was unusual for a woman to be running a business at that time. It was also unusual that someone was still a blacksmith.

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