I have had this horseshoe a long time, ever since I looked into the top part of the barn addition where the pony stall was and saw it hanging on a nail in the wall. I went in to retrieve it, for good luck, you know, and I stepped on a board that had a nail protruding from it, probably covered by some old hay. I was wearing shoes with rubber soles, must have been high style back then, and the nail went right through my foot, the right foot I think. I remember going to the back door of the Madigan house, and Rosemary came to the door. I explained my plight and took off my shoe and the blood poured out. R. told me later that she almost fainted at the sight. I don't remember what came next, but I'm sure I sought medical attention: after all a rusty nail after mouldering away for years in an old barn. Full penetration of the foot.
I must have been limping a little because soon after, on a tutoring visit to one of my students, I'd explained what happened and the Mom asked how the horseshoe had been hanging when I took it down. I told her--- suspended over a nail. "Well, no wonder," she said, "that it didn't bring you good luck. If the horseshoe is hanging with the open ends pointing downward, the luck has drained out." She may have been right; I need to reverse the picture.
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