A Fine Piece of Heavy Iron

I pushed past the porch gate and walked down the block, keeping my pace steady and my eyes peeled. Down near the curb by a weathered wooden park bench, something caught my eye—a circular cast-iron utility cap set flush into the cracked concrete. I walked right onto the embossed metal ridges, feeling the solid weight of the iron beneath my boots. It had a bold geometric crosshatch pattern and heavy raised lettering from an old municipal foundry. I stood square in the center, rested my hand at my side, and gave the cast iron two firm taps with my heel. Unshakable. That is the kind of honest craftsmanship that anchors a whole neighborhood.