As much as the knives themselves, I think alot of the guys here on this forum are drawn to the traditional pocket knives as much as for the lost era they were made in, as the knives themselves. A lifestyle that is no more.
I'd have to agree that that is a big part of the draw for many of us. I know it is for me. The emphasis in society in general is just different. Bigger, faster, pricier, fancier, seemed to have become needs rather than wants and people can't imagine how anyone could live a satisfying lifestyle with out these things. Sad part is, these things more often just feed a hunger for the next issue and very soon people are pining away after them. After all, how can you be happy with yesterday's latest stuff when it's today.
Amidst all this high speed, low drag stuff, people forget that it is the person with the gear and not the gear that usually makes the difference. Long before tactical was a marketing label, man was fighting man quite well with the tools of the day. A good hand with a lever gun, a sixgun, and sheath knife can still be very tactical. If he's a hand at slipping through and being immersed in the woods then he can be a pretty good stealth fighter in an many conditions, from outback to urban.
Back when there were folks who routinely disappeared into the wilds they simply took their basic gear. That rifle or shotgun was a tool for gathering food and defending yourself from four and two-legged critters. The knife that sliced the last of your bacon for breakfast might find itself in your hand in a mortal fight with man or beast. It would be used to provide shelter and other things you might need on the trail.
These things were tools, essential gear, items of comfort, and part of you. You may not have a lot, but these tools wore an earned patina just being a part of your life.
A lot of that is what's missing now. The whole concept is lost or nearly lost on new generations. It's not really their fault. The world simply is different. Society and what is considered the norm, is different. So go the rises and falls of nations and lifestyles. We don't have to like it. The cycles will happen as they will without our approval or liking it.
So, we gather to hear stories, and tell a few of our own, about how it was. We try to do some things to keep that life still alive for us and perhaps share it with one or two younger than us. We gather with folks who can understand the poetry of a woods at dusk, or day on the marsh. Old fences, old boats, old guns and knives talk to use in a language we can understand, a language that is spoken less and less. Even among those who hunt, fish, and camp, the dialects are different and the subtle meanings no longer carry though the words may be similar.
I wish I'd been more exposed and saturated in that old world. However, I'm glad that I've been able to at least have experienced it and have memories and attitudes that allow me to taste the wind and smell the smoke of those long gone campfires when the stories are told. I consider myself fortunate to have spent days running the woods, small ours may have been, with gun in hand, or plopping down at the old, farm pond with a can of worms, a fishing pole, and hope.
I feel sad as I see this lifestyle passing from its older form, but I feel sadder for those who will never experience or understand it.
That's why it's good to pull up a spot and chat with you fellows.
Amos