Raise the Old Bell

Several weeks ago Carmello and I dug up the old bell that stood at my father's place in Williston. It was no easy task. The cast iron bell rested atop a railroad cross tie buried several feet in the ground. After much tugging, we got the pole from the ground and loaded it and the bell on the trailer. In Lake City, I sprayed bleach on the bell to kill the algae that had accumulated and let it sit.
Yesterday, in searching for some red paint, I came across an old can of red paint my father had in one of his foot lockers. It had to be from the early 60's, about half full but clogged beyond spraying. I punched a hole in the top and the red spewed out...
I then took an equally old brush from the foot locker and began painting the old bell. It was an ardous task to move the large cross tie from the front yard, but I finally managed, by lifting it and letting it fall, over and over, until it fell by the hole I had dug with my fathers old post hole diggers. I then searched all over for three bolts large enough to screw into the bell holder. You would have thought, with all the many
screws and nails I had carried from Williston, three would have been easily found. After much searching, three the right size were located and screwed in with my father's large crescent wrench. All was ready for the bell raising. Before that though, I used some old axle grease to lubricated the bell holder notches. I got my dad's old Werner ladder and climbed slowly with the heavy bell.
It slipped into the notches and rested with a clang.
The final touch was to paint the large square nut my dad used at the end of the pull rope.
It now rests in my back yard in the shade. Underneath is the metal outdoor chair, the type my father and his father liked to sit in.
I shall ring in the day, or whatever event merits ringing in now. I am sure my father would be pleased with the raising of the old bell again.