"Carl's Lounge" (Off-Topic Discussion, Traditional Knife "Tales & Vignettes")

His name was Mr Buchanan. I was probably about six when I met him. He an Mrs Buchanan would come visit a couple or three times a year. After dinner my dad and Mr Buchanan would sit outside and talk while the ladies cleaned up. Mr Buck would dispatch me to the woods to scout out the best hickory limb for what had become a tradition between us. It needed to be just right cause he was a craftsman and just any old limb wouldn’t do. When presented with the specimen he’d study it closely and if it passed muster I’d get a nod of approval and a wink. The knife was very small in his big hands and I loved to watch as he set about his task. Adding to the intrigue was the fact that he was missing the thumb and forefinger of his left hand which caused an unnatural movement that made it look like any moment another digit might be severed as he manipulated the blade around the stick. With the deftness of a surgeon he carved and twisted until the bark slid off in one piece followed by whittling here and notching there. He then slid the bark back on and tested it, slid the bark back off and “tuned” it with one final slice of the blade and it was done. With my new hickory whistle in hand I headed down to the spring. Hovering over the crystal pool I imagined myself the “crawdad whisperer” as I softly blew a monotone tune that slowly and hypnotically brought the crustaceans to the surface….

The bacon helped.


R.I.P. my friend.
 
Fodderwing said:
His name was Mr Buchanan. I was probably about six when I met him. He an Mrs Buchanan would come visit a couple or three times a year. After dinner my dad and Mr Buchanan would sit outside and talk while the ladies cleaned up. Mr Buck would dispatch me to the woods to scout out the best hickory limb for what had become a tradition between us. It needed to be just right cause he was a craftsman and just any old limb wouldn’t do. When presented with the specimen he’d study it closely and if it passed muster I’d get a nod of approval and a wink. The knife was very small in his big hands and I loved to watch as he set about his task. Adding to the intrigue was the fact that he was missing the thumb and forefinger of his left hand which caused an unnatural movement that made it look like any moment another digit might be severed as he manipulated the blade around the stick. With the deftness of a surgeon he carved and twisted until the bark slid off in one piece followed by whittling here and notching there. He then slid the bark back on and tested it, slid the bark back off and “tuned” it with one final slice of the blade and it was done. With my new hickory whistle in hand I headed down to the spring. Hovering over the crystal pool I imagined myself the “crawdad whisperer” as I softly blew a monotone tune that slowly and hypnotically brought the crustaceans to the surface….

The bacon helped.


R.I.P. my friend.
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What a beautiful memory Dwight. Condolences on your loss.
 
It sounds like Mr. Buchanan and Mr. Van might have had a lot in common. Thanks for sharing and preserving the memory of Mr. B!
 
JohnDF said:
I'm off to see my son compete today.
He plays contra in the Blue Devils B Corps :cool:
They won their first show last night in Clovis. :cool: :thumbsup:
Hoping for a repeat tonight at Stanford, and tomorrow in Sacramento. :cool: :thumbsup: :thumbsup:
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How'd they do?
 
World Series MVP George Springer was assigned to a rehab stint in AA baseball in my home town this week. I happened to have a ticket today's game, his last before he rejoins the Astros on Tuesday (I think). Normally, I am early to the ballpark, but I was unavoidably delayed, and missed the top of the 1st. As I am walking into the ballpark, I hear the announcement that DH George Springer is coming to bat. I make it into the park in time to see him hit a single.
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If I'd been ten seconds later, I'd have missed it. It was his only hit in three at-bats (someone pinch-hit for him in the 9th.
I hadn't made it to my seat, which was on the left field side. You can see it in the second picture. It's the last seat on the right in the first row just behind the rolled-up tarp in the background. Here's a view from my seat:
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I can reach over and touch the ground. Someone hit a foul ball over my head, and I turned around to follow it. When I turned back to the field, the opponents' shortstop (No. 30, the closest player in the picture) was right in front of me. Inches from me. He smiled and we clasped hands before he ran back to his position.
Here's Springer batting again (I zoomed in a little):
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We lost 12-5, but I still had a good time (and the Astros beat the Yankees today!). Had a Nolan Ryan hot dog and some Budweiser (don't snicker, beer snobs--it tastes great at the ballpark in 90-degree weather!). ;)

There is a statue of a ballplayer in front of the ballpark, and @5K Qs asked a few weeks ago if it was a particular player.
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I didn't know, but said I'd check the plaque next time I went. So I did.
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It has the name of the artist, Seth Vandable, and the statue is titled: "FOR THE LOVE OF THE GAME." So it's not modeled on a particular player. I believe it is the world's largest bronze statue of a baseball player. (It's a Texas thing.)

I didn't take a knife with me because I know MLB is now prohibiting them, and I didn't want to have to walk back to my car if the minor league park was also prohibiting them. But they are not at this time. :) A guy nearby pulled out a one-hander. I think he was cutting off a tag from some merchandise. But I wouldn't be surprised to see metal detectors soon. The hockey team has them.

Anyway, this is one of the knives I carried today (gotta have knife content!):
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Now I'm going to watch a cooking show with my wife and enjoy a martini or two. :)
 
Fodderwing said:
His name was Mr Buchanan. I was probably about six when I met him. He an Mrs Buchanan would come visit a couple or three times a year. After dinner my dad and Mr Buchanan would sit outside and talk while the ladies cleaned up. Mr Buck would dispatch me to the woods to scout out the best hickory limb for what had become a tradition between us. It needed to be just right cause he was a craftsman and just any old limb wouldn’t do. When presented with the specimen he’d study it closely and if it passed muster I’d get a nod of approval and a wink. The knife was very small in his big hands and I loved to watch as he set about his task. Adding to the intrigue was the fact that he was missing the thumb and forefinger of his left hand which caused an unnatural movement that made it look like any moment another digit might be severed as he manipulated the blade around the stick. With the deftness of a surgeon he carved and twisted until the bark slid off in one piece followed by whittling here and notching there. He then slid the bark back on and tested it, slid the bark back off and “tuned” it with one final slice of the blade and it was done. With my new hickory whistle in hand I headed down to the spring. Hovering over the crystal pool I imagined myself the “crawdad whisperer” as I softly blew a monotone tune that slowly and hypnotically brought the crustaceans to the surface….

The bacon helped.


R.I.P. my friend.
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My condolences Dwight, and thank you for the wonderfully written memory of your friend.

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Gevonovich said:
A meditation before bed. There is a six minute version

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Thanks Gev. I smiled at this, as I also enjoy watching Rune Malte Bertram-Nilsson’s serene bushcraft videos before going to sleep.;)

I also like being lulled to sleep by the clickety-clack train sound of modern hobo videos on the headphones.:)

This one by a wandering ex-military vet, 'Hobo Shoestring', features a rather unique technique for sharpening his Buck 110, around 6:35 in. :eek::


waynorth said:
I love mussels!! The fresher, the better!!
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Yes Charlie! Absolutely! Great to see you back on deck, my friend.:thumbsup::)

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Fodderwing Fodderwing , I’m sorry for your loss. Your post was a touching tribute.

Prester John Prester John , thanks for sharing. It sounds like a wonderful time. I’ve been to a few minor league games—the hardware store used to give out free tickets—and enjoyed them at least as much as going to see a Major League game.
 
zolthar said:
What a beautiful memory Dwight. Condolences on your loss.
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black mamba said:
Excellent, Dwight, just excellent
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Gevonovich said:
Sounds like a fine man,Dwight !! Marvelously told
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waynorth said:
Wonderful story!! R. I. P. Mr. Buck!
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RobbW said:
It sounds like Mr. Buchanan and Mr. Van might have had a lot in common. Thanks for sharing and preserving the memory of Mr. B!
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Cambertree said:
My condolences Dwight, and thank you for the wonderfully written memory of your friend
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WhittlinAway said:
Fodderwing Fodderwing , I’m sorry for your loss. Your post was a touching tribute.
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Thank you men for the kind words. And Chin, Yep that's exactly how Mr Buck did it! :D

JohnDF said:
They won the Open Class at all of their first three shows.
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Glad to hear it John! :)
 
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