- Joined
- Dec 23, 2008
- Messages
- 566
I got word the other day that a friend passed away last Friday. He was 86 and was a sharp oldtimer that got around on a cane and always had a story to tell me. We werent close; in fact, we only saw each other about once a month for about ten or fifteen minutes at a time when I was over near his house where I occasionally work.
I knew him for about two years so we probably spent about 4-6 hours together if you summed up our total time speaking to one another.
He was one of those older gentlemen that remind you of your grandfather or dear uncle; remind you of an era gone by. He was relaxed, happy and full of stories of the good ole days. We talked a lot about pocket knives and fishing. I loved seeing him and listening to him. He always made the rest of my workday more enjoyable. There was just something about him that drew you in and you wanted to be his friend.
One day, he said, come with me, I want to show you something. I followed him to his Chevy SUV and he opened the back and lifted up the spare tire compartment. There was an old cigar box sitting in the center of the spare tire and he removed it and opened it in front of me. The box was full; the first thing I saw was an old western metal cap gun, probably 70 years old. There were pocket knives, a P-38, marbles, a couple photographs, a rabbits foot and more stuff that I couldnt make out.
At first, I was set back a bit because here was all this stuff a kid would have. This man was 86! It slowly dawned on me. I have this kind of stuff at home in a drawer too and Im 38! So we really were no different. Later on, after contemplating the situation, I realized this man was opening himself and his history to me. What an honor!
He pulled out an old pocketknife without any scales on it. It looked like it came from a scrap bucket. It was an old pen knife that was very dear to him. He said his teacher gave it to him in the third grade. Can you imagine? Your third grade teacher giving you a pocket knife? I wasnt able to get that story because he quickly moved on to show me his old Ka-Bar fishing knife with yellow handles, fish scaler and hook sharpener on the handle. We talked a little more and he said, here, I want you to have this It was an old J.A. Henckels whittler with stag handles pictured below. I was thrilled and grateful. I inquired about his grandkids and he assured me that they had received many knives and a few guns from him already.
This little knife will always remind me of my friend John. His cigar box of memories reminds me its good to keep hold of your youth and how little material things like pocketknives can have so much value because of the story and memories that are tied to them.
Before I pass, hopefully many years from now, I hope I can impact and teach someone like John did for me. Just four hours of his life with me enriched my life tremendously.
A knifes material value can be high but its story can be priceless.
I knew him for about two years so we probably spent about 4-6 hours together if you summed up our total time speaking to one another.
He was one of those older gentlemen that remind you of your grandfather or dear uncle; remind you of an era gone by. He was relaxed, happy and full of stories of the good ole days. We talked a lot about pocket knives and fishing. I loved seeing him and listening to him. He always made the rest of my workday more enjoyable. There was just something about him that drew you in and you wanted to be his friend.
One day, he said, come with me, I want to show you something. I followed him to his Chevy SUV and he opened the back and lifted up the spare tire compartment. There was an old cigar box sitting in the center of the spare tire and he removed it and opened it in front of me. The box was full; the first thing I saw was an old western metal cap gun, probably 70 years old. There were pocket knives, a P-38, marbles, a couple photographs, a rabbits foot and more stuff that I couldnt make out.
At first, I was set back a bit because here was all this stuff a kid would have. This man was 86! It slowly dawned on me. I have this kind of stuff at home in a drawer too and Im 38! So we really were no different. Later on, after contemplating the situation, I realized this man was opening himself and his history to me. What an honor!
He pulled out an old pocketknife without any scales on it. It looked like it came from a scrap bucket. It was an old pen knife that was very dear to him. He said his teacher gave it to him in the third grade. Can you imagine? Your third grade teacher giving you a pocket knife? I wasnt able to get that story because he quickly moved on to show me his old Ka-Bar fishing knife with yellow handles, fish scaler and hook sharpener on the handle. We talked a little more and he said, here, I want you to have this It was an old J.A. Henckels whittler with stag handles pictured below. I was thrilled and grateful. I inquired about his grandkids and he assured me that they had received many knives and a few guns from him already.
This little knife will always remind me of my friend John. His cigar box of memories reminds me its good to keep hold of your youth and how little material things like pocketknives can have so much value because of the story and memories that are tied to them.
Before I pass, hopefully many years from now, I hope I can impact and teach someone like John did for me. Just four hours of his life with me enriched my life tremendously.
A knifes material value can be high but its story can be priceless.
reading NEAT stories like this one, I too have a BOX!!! It is great to be here in this forum w/ like minded "Folks"!!
