A realization

Rsmith_77

Rsmith_77

Joined
Jun 4, 2010
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I have spent like 15 years on and off of this forum. Learning about knives, knives popular in other countries and other cultures
I never really felt like I had a knife that represented my upbringing and my culture (I'll get to this, this is my failing).

I read about the stockman and trappers of the American west
Jackknife's peanuts and err jackknives of the Maryland waterways
The resolzas of Mediterranean cultures
The lambsfoot of the English workingman

Etc etc

And I think something finally clicked. It's not that my upbringing didn't have knives, it's just that I was too young and dumb to really pay attention. Growing up in western New York in the 80s and 90s I was enthralled with the rambo knives, the ww2 daggers and other flashy weapons that were completely impractical for anyones day to day life. So I just mentally blew off what was actually happening around me.

But I DID notice, even if I didn't pay attention
The younger men often carried either a smaller stockman (like 3 1/4") or their buck 110s. Cause my neck of the woods was definitely farm country (dairy farms) and a big hunting area for turkey and white tail deer.

And the "old men" (funny how that number keeps changing as one also gets older) always somehow seemed to have a small pen knife in their pockets.

My father never really carried a knife, but then he was a New York State corrections officer and they probably had real restrictive rules about that sort of thing (he also never brought his revolver home and left it in his locker at work..probably because he knew he had two bonehead sons at home)
But I clearly remember him using a p38 on his keyring for most cutting tasks.

But my grandfathers? Pen knives
No idea what brand or manufacture, but I distinctly recall the small (probably 3" or less) with two small blades on opposite ends.

As a child I did a lot of camping and cub scouts and I was gifted more than one small stockman, but I didn't appreciate them or understand them. I had more than one knife either broken or confiscated because I would open all 3 blades and try and throw them and stick them into wooden doors or trees.

I dunno, this is probably a silly Sunday reminiscing session. Thinking about my father and my childhood while I been cleaning and sharpening knives that I have left neglected in my drawer entirely too long
But it seemed a relevant realization for this forum and I thought I would share

I also just finished sharpening and oiling a camillus manufactured buck 303
And it kind of struck some memories I had forgotten about my childhood.

Oh and as an edit
I should say as young men (kids really) I should have said small stockman and camp knives to include victorinox tinkers and recruits and such.
 
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My maternal grandfather was a machinist at the Brooklyn Navy Yard. He's the one that got me started with knives when I was about five or six.

Always had a pen knife in his pocket, nothing fancy. Imperial, Utica, and such. I can't recall ever seeing larger knives outside the kitchen.

For reference, he passed in February, 1962...so it's been a good while, though he's with me daily, as is the love of knives he fostered in me.
 
It occurred to me, in reading your post, that maybe my preference for stockman patterns in adulthood might've originally been 'imprinted' upon me by what may have been my first handling of a pocketknife - one my father showed to me when I was a kid. He had three old, unbranded pocketknives with what I assume were celluloid covers. Two of them were very brightly colored and also showed, if I recall, some significant rust. The third one wasn't as brightly colored, but in sort of a pea-green swirl pattern. It wasn't rusted at all. Dad showed all three of them to me when I was in my pre-teens. He'd already had them for years - they looked 'old' to me even back in the late 1960s or early '70s when I first saw them. Some years later, when I was in my teens, he gave me the green-handled one. And at some point, the other two knives apparently went away somewhere, unless perhaps he just hid them away. I suspect he might've tossed them out for the rusting issues, as I've assumed their celluloid covers probably outgassed and ruined them. Dad passed away 7 years ago, and the family still hasn't rummaged through his belongings. So, I don't know for certain if we'll see those other two ever again.
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I think you're right
I think I have preferences that never made sense but do now.

Like I prefer square bolstered stockman over round bolstered versions. No idea why, but thinking back all the ones we had were squared
I know I don't really care for stockman's with proud sheepsfoot blades (they are noticeably less comfortable to use) but many of the smaller ones (like this 303) have much lower seated sheepsfoot blades than say the old timer 8OT or the buck 301.

This is weird 😁
 
One theory I read (and subscribe to) said they left that sheepsfoot proud so it could be pinched open even with gloves on, since it was the "work blade" of the stockman. I certainly use it the most on mine. That said, I generally grind down the kick to lower the tip, since I don't work in gloves often.
 
Those sheepsfoot blades are so incredibly useful and so easy to sharpen that the afficionados and workers have re-engineered them slightly and now they are the same thing, functionally, but are called lambsfeet, boxcutters and wharncliffes. There is one called a dynamite knife with four sheepsfeet! Way cool. Another variation is the florist knife which exists (existed) in a few forms.

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Rsmith_77 said:
I dunno, this is probably a silly Sunday reminiscing session. Thinking about my father and my childhood while I been cleaning and sharpening knives that I have left neglected in my drawer entirely too long
But it seemed a relevant realization for this forum and I thought I would share
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I don't think there is any such thing as silly reminiscing. Only by looking back on our life experience do we learn and move forward. The young pups learn by watching the old dogs, so what we witnessed as pups ourselves should be teaching moments. Our reminiscing is our brains going back over data and re-evaluating what we know from that experience. Sometimes we go astray, and it takes some re-evaluation and maybe some reminiscing to re-align and reset our thoughts. Lord knows I've done a lot of reseting in my life, like when I realized the old men back when did know better than us because of their long life's experience. They found out before we came along, what actually worked best for them and what they were doing, and where they were doing it.

Only now in my red giant stage of life, do I realize how much the old man was right about so much.
 
Here in northwestern PA (rural farm country), nearly all the older generation and farmers daily carry small/medium stockmans, trappers, whittlers, etc. Mostly Case, Queen, and Schrade, all under 4 inch long. Occassionaly I would see a Buck 100. But the only time I remember seeing someone have a large coke bottle, or folding hunter pattern was in hunting season, carried for gutting a deer.
 
tongueriver said:
Those sheepsfoot blades are so incredibly useful and so easy to sharpen that the afficionados and workers have re-engineered them slightly and now they are the same thing, functionally, but are called lambsfeet, boxcutters and wharncliffes. There is one called a dynamite knife with four sheepsfeet! Way cool. Another variation is the florist knife which exists (existed) in a few forms.

View attachment 3061225View attachment 3061226
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These are very much like the Victorinox florist knife have been experimenting with the past year or two. VERY versatile and useful knives. Great cutting ability plus light weight in the pocket.
 
Rsmith_77 said:
And the "old men" (funny how that number keeps changing as one also gets older) always somehow seemed to have a small pen knife in their pockets.

(Snip)

But my grandfathers? Pen knives
No idea what brand or manufacture, but I distinctly recall the small (probably 3" or less) with two small blades on opposite ends.
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It took me a long time to figure that out. As a young guy with a Buck stockman my pocket, I always wondered why those old guys all carried a little pen knife in the 5th pocket. I never did figure it out until I became an old guy myself.

It's a matter of realizing who you are, and what you're doing. When I got to a certain age, I knew I was not going backpacking into the wilderness anymore. I wasn't going canoeing in the Boundary waters, or exploring new territory. For an Goldman, there's a hell of a lot that become "been there, done that." And not just because you're been there and one that, but two new factors come into play.

1. You realize you've reached an age where you just can't do that anymore. Age, age related problems and old injuries, and life in general has robbed you of the ability to lug a backpack up a mountain trail, or lug that fresh gutted deer out of the woods and back to the truck, or paddling that boar 20 miles up that river on a trout fishing trip. With the rebuilt shoulder, new knee, and some other body work along the way, you've got enough non factory stainless steel parts in you you're scared to go near a scrap yard because you''ll end up dangling from that big round electro magnet 20 feet in the air.

2. You don't want to. The desire for all that has edded and your at an age where you want to be comfy more than experience hardship. The same reason Bat Masterson went to New York City the last half od his life and took it easy. Or Wyatt Earp leaving the west and spending the rest of his life in and around Los Angeles and San Fransisco. The same reason I'm not hiking up that mountain and sleeping out in the woods. The last time we visited Yellowstone, it was fun sitting on the veranda of the Yellowstone Lodge and watching Old Faithful do its thing while sitting in a nice padded easy chair with a cocktail in hand and a waiter coming around with a tray of goodies on toothpicks.Or taking the tourist train with a naturalist around Yosemite getting a lecture on the Geological forces that formed it, and afterward a nice grilled steak in a first class dining room.
Along with the "been there, done that" mentality, comes the realization that in addition the fact that you can't do that anymore, is the fact that you really don't even want to.

Soooo, now as the bonafide old fart, you like taking the easy way, you like being comfortable, and for this new life of a gentleman of leisure you don't really need much knife. That pen knife in your pocket doesn't weigh much, takes up very little room, and leaves room for the more essentials of life at that stage, like pain meds for the arthritis, a small pocket pistol because you realize your not up to fighting someone half your age and quicker than you, and the RONCO pocket defibrillator in case of vapor lock, which at your age is more likely than not.

And that little pen knife is still capable of cutting fishing line, cutting a piece of chicken live for bait, slicing the end of a nice cigar to enjoy while sitting in the shade of a tree waiting for the fish to bite, or slicing a quick snack of that block of Tillimook extra sharp cheddar in the fridge, or cutting open those plastic packages everything is in now that defy tooth and nail. The little open knife is a handy cutter. And like a smart man told me when is was young, "It doesn't have to be big, just sharp."
 
To be fair
I JUST turned 48 like a week ago
I still feel like I am 25 (and depending on who you ask I act even younger) 😜

This may just be the first year I even started to feel my age.

I would LOVE to go hiking and camping and such activities even still to this day. But my wife is not the greatest of health, she has been through a lot and I just don't feel comfortable leaving her alone over night much less multiple nights.
 
Rsmith_77 said:
To be fair
I JUST turned 48 like a week ago
I still feel like I am 25 (and depending on who you ask I act even younger) 😜

This may just be the first year I even started to feel my age.

I would LOVE to go hiking and camping and such activities even still to this day. But my wife is not the greatest of health, she has been through a lot and I just don't feel comfortable leaving her alone over night much less multiple nights.
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Oh heck, you're still a kid!😀

Okay, maybe getting to middle age, but so far 50 and under is still good to go. I didn't start see a downturn until my mid 50's, and then it was a just sort of slowing down. My 60's was a bit different and that is when the bigger changes started, not just psychical, but psychological. A sort of late maturing of thought and greater understanding of what was happening. A much more pragmatic thinking started. By my 60's, I was done with backpacking, but still enjoyed car/canoe camping. We wen't going as far on hikes as before, and did more car trips and traveling by air.

But the biggest change was the 70's! After market parts installed and nothing was the same anymore.
 
jackknife said:
Oh heck, you're still a kid!😀

Okay, maybe getting to middle age, but so far 50 and under is still good to go. I didn't start see a downturn until my mid 50's, and then it was a just sort of slowing down. My 60's was a bit different and that is when the bigger changes started, not just psychical, but psychological. A sort of late maturing of thought and greater understanding of what was happening. A much more pragmatic thinking started. By my 60's, I was done with backpacking, but still enjoyed car/canoe camping. We wen't going as far on hikes as before, and did more car trips and traveling by air.

But the biggest change was the 70's! After market parts installed and nothing was the same anymore.
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That's what happens when you let your warranty expire
 
In March of this year I realized I had all of the GEC Patterns that I wanted and did not want to pay the price now being charged for a duplicate of another knife that I would never use but just admire . I also realized that to get some nice Stag , I would have to look for Older knives that did have Sambar Stag on it . The day that I realized that , I bought 2 Stag handled knives . Since then , I have found 6 others with Sambar Stag . I had always had a certain number of Stag handled knives that I wanted in my meager collection and I have now done that . I know that I can get custom made knives and get what I want , but .

Harry
 
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I'm 69 and my father died in 1992. I still remember his Case pen knife with a bone or stag handle that had patina that turned it a grey/brown color. It was carbon steel. My mom and dad hunted deer and my dad would butcher them with a Case fixed blade knife. It had a leather stacked black handle and I would guess a blade about five inches long. I wish I had those knives.
 
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My dad always had a knife, as did my uncles and grandpa. They were always just around, and there was nothing unusual in that. I've loved knives my entire life, dunno why, just have. These days I'm a grandpa, and I'm the guy they all come to when the need something to be opened. I'd like to imagine there's a great cosmic meaning to all this, but really, down deep I suspect it's just because I like knives.

It's good enough for me.
 
Your post probably resonates with more people than you know. I’ve carried a pocketknife since sometime in the 70’s, I just don’t know when that started. My very first knife was a Jack knife Dad got me at a county fair. A plastic picnic knife can hold an edge better than that thing, but I still have it. My first what I would call real quality knife was my Camillus cub Scout knife. I don’t know when I got it, but I was in Cub Scouts during the bicentennial in 1976. So somewhere from that time and within a couple years is probably when I received it. I don’t really think I had any tremendous appreciation for it compared to the mere fact that I had an actual knife. That seemed to be the standard of becoming more of a bigger kid when parents let you have something like that without supervision. From that time on, I carried a pocket knife more or less every day. I’m sure there are times that I did not have it, but it wasn’t because I was prohibited at school or anywhere else. It’s more likely that I just forgot it. I do know when I would go visit grandpa on the farm. He always had some sort of a small knife on him and if we were helping him out, he expected us to be able to cut twine on hay bales, so I always made sure I took it with me.

As I grew older, I just looked at a knife as a tool that was necessary to have. Mine probably did as much scraping, digging, or prying as it did cutting. I did become more proud in the knives that I received because they were of a better quality and were gifts as they grew up. My 127UH I carried through Jr High and High School got its fair share of workouts both on the farm and in the woods. But even then it was just a tool. I think it’s hard for a young kid or even a young man to understand nostalgia. It’s not until you start to have moments like you did the other day where you reminisce about your childhood or young adulthood. I find myself doing that more every year and realize I’m not alone in that thought process.

Other than my Dad’s one and only Western fixed blade Hunting knife and Grandad’s Western Shark he carried in WWII and hunting and fishing trips, I don’t think either of them gave much thought to their knives. They were just necessary tools. My other Grandad was the same way. But when I look at those knives they look like more than tools to me. It’s fishing with my buddies on a Cub Scout camping and trip catching the biggest bass of the trip, watching Grandad make a whistle out of a willow branch or my other Grandpa giving me my first wad or Red Man. (Which completely cured me of ever wanting to chew tobacco ever again!!!)

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