-
The BladeForums.com 2024 Traditional Knife is ready to order! See this thread for details: https://www.bladeforums.com/threads/bladeforums-2024-traditional-knife.2003187/
Price is$300$250 ea (shipped within CONUS). If you live outside the US, I will contact you after your order for extra shipping charges.
Order here: https://www.bladeforums.com/help/2024-traditional/ - Order as many as you like, we have plenty.
"Carl's Lounge" (Off-Topic Discussion, Traditional Knife "Tales & Vignettes")
- Thread starter jackknife
- Start date
- Joined
- May 7, 2011
- Messages
- 3,426
I had heard this story from my grandfather a couple of times before (he likes to tell stories of old times). Last sunday I was talking with him, I don't remember how he got into that story, but as he was repeating it to me I decided I would post it here. It has no knife in it, but I figured it might be an interesting read (and traditional too), so I posted it here in the Lounge. Glad you enjoyed it.
Fausto
Fausto
- Joined
- Sep 2, 2004
- Messages
- 18,311
Sardinia, summer 1928.
The wellness of the '20s had reached even the innermost part of the island, and people were smiling happily while they walked the streets of the small village for the party. It was early June, summer has come, and it was a beautiful sunday. One week before, and for the first time ever, the village had reached 2000 people, with the birth
of Maria, the mayor's third child. Spring had brought a good harvest, grape seemed to be starting fine, and people were just enjoying the small village fair.
But the kid wasn't thinking about any of that. He felt excited and anxious. He looked around, and saw many people around him. It seemed that the whole village was in the street...and possibly more. The race for local horses would start in minutes, followed by the one open to any horse. The track was approximately one mile long, first half outside the village, on the main road leading up, and the second half inside the village, ending in a tape between the local pharmacy and the house of the primary school teacher. One mile, but running upwards. The kid knew it was harder than what it seemed.
He looked around. There were a dozen horses going round and round in the starting area. The local vet would start the race; he had drawn a line in the ground with a cane, and would signal the start waving down a short stick with a white handkerchief tied on top of it. The kid knew most of the horses around him, and most of the jockeys too...which made him feel nervous. He had grown up among horses and he knew how evil jockeys could be, even if he was by far the youngest of the race.
He was mounting a great horse, an arab/sardinian male nicknamed "Cheese" for its color, something in between grey and beige. He loved this horse; Mimmia, the owner (a good friend of his father) had insisted that the kid would mount it for the race. He would turn 16 by the end of the year, so why not? This would be the first one open to adults (both horses and jockeys), but he knew how to stay on a horse (he had even won a couple races before), even though for his tiny figure (1,60m and 40 kilos) it wasn't easy to stay ontop without a saddle. On the other hand, and since the race was upwards, being light would help the horse, which had proved his strength in other races.
He looked to his left. He wasn't sure about the horse, a dark brown male, but he recognized the jockey from his bushy eyebrow and square head. Even if he came from another village, Barore was known around there, and he knew the kid pretty well, since had stayed at his place for more than one year, taking care of his dad's horses. His eyes told of his will to win the race, even though he couldn't avoid showing his surprise when he saw the kid mounting by his side. He remembered him as a ten year old child, and now he was racing against him. Barore shrugged his shoulders and turned his horse to the right.
Two false starts made the whole race even more nervous and filled with tension. One of the horses looked really nervous and the jockey could barely control him. As he moved nervously inside the starting area, the other horses were forced to move away, thus creating some confusion.
The kid never knew if it was luck, or if the vet had actually chosen to help him somehow. Either way, when he lowered the white handkerchief, the kid was perfectly aligned with the starting line, on the outer side of a long curve of the road, and facing the right direction. Before half of the horses had crossed the starting line, he was way ahead of all of them, his spurs pushing Cheese ahead, in the late afternoon sun. But he knew it would not be that easy. A few seconds later, he sensed other horses getting closer, and as he was taking the last two curves before entering the village, he saw them getting closer. Cheese wasn't tired, but he knew that at least two horses
in that race were faster than him...and they were coming after him. At the entrance of the village, turning his head back as they made a curve to the left, he saw the dark brown horse at one length behind him, and Barore shouting frenzied. The finish line wasn't far, but not that close even. In a rush of pride, he knew he wouldn't let him pass, or at least not easily. He moved Cheese a bit towards the left of the road, while people were shouting from the windows. He knew Barore would only have
one chance to pass him before they got to the pharmacy, so he wanted to be sure on where he would try. His father (who had dismissed Barore for drinking too much) had always said that the guy was smart, even cunning, so the kid wanted to make the call, even though it would be a risky call. When Barore got closer, at just one length behind him, the kid started closing him towards the right side of the road, knowing he would have no chance to change side without losing speed...and the finish line was close. He felt the breath of the dark horse on him, and looked down to his right feet. There were no curves on the last 200 metres, and his biggest worry was that the guy would try to lift his feet up and make him fall. And that's what the guy tried to do, feeling no shame towards a 15 year old kid. But Cheese still had enough to speed up, and when Barore pushed his left leg aside to do the trick, the kid has gained one more yard so his foot only kicked the grey/beige side of the horse, losing balance. An old guy from a balcony saw the whole thing and shouted at him in anger and disapproval. No tricks against a kid.
But the kid was way ahead again, crossing the finish line with a shout and immediately looking around to find his father and Mimmia looking back at him with pride.
There would be time to deal with Barore later. Now, the kid just deserved all their attentions for winning his first adult race.
Fausto
Thanks Fausto. I enjoyed that look into the past and into another culture. It's nice when "the kid" wins.:thumbup:
The stories our grandparents tell us will be treasured our whole lives.
Ten or so years ago i lost a pocket knife at work. It was nothing special, just a frost cutlery stockman with very little blade left... well guess what ? i saw a fellow employee cutting a sandwich with what looked like my old knife last week. This really couldnt be my knife, since my co worker had only worked at my company 3 or 4 years. Anyway, I made my way over to his table to sit down and eat... the knife was still out and on the table... after asking if i could see it, i realized it was the same knife.... during my fondling of what used to be my knife, my co worker gave me the story of how his father in law ( a former co worker who is now deceased) gave him the knife. There was the connection... i kept my mouth shut and told him that i liked the knife... I now realize how i lost my knife... His father in law and i shared the same tool box at work.... while i was on vacation (ten years ago), his father in law found out he was sick and was put on disabillity and died a few months later.. i must have left it in his tool box like had done so many times before...... Now this is not my story, but one that a neighbor of mine told me.. it has got me thinking of how many knives i have lost and how many i have found... i wish i knew the stories behind all of the knives...where the came from and where they are now
- Joined
- May 7, 2011
- Messages
- 3,426
Gary, Carl,
I'm glad you enjoyed it. You know, I could write a book or two with the stories my grandfather has told me over the years (most of them have been told many times
especially WWII tales) and only recently (in the last few years) I've realized that some of them are really mirrors of old times, and are a great way to see how things have changed over times, but at the same time how certain traditions and cultural facts have kept more or less the same after 80 years. Yes, this time the kid wins. Sometimes I will have to ask my grandfather and try to discover if the other guy's trick did cost him much after the race was over...
Fausto
It was being held at a big field surrounding a lake. Before it has always been held down town but they didn't want the trouble with drunken people and noice anymore.
This field is a bit away from where people live. Not much away however because over here NOTHING is too far away from people lol.
As from May 1st this year there has been a big campaign regarded to mainly youth to toss in all their knives in an attempt to reduce the stabbings.
Yeah right.....
Posession of Ballisongs, Switch blades/stiletto's and gravity knives are absolutely forbidden over here now.
The rest of the laws are a bit gray. You are still allowed to carry any folder locking or not if the total length doesn't exceed 28 cm. Only not everywhere. And what's "not everywhere?"
At that event the security WAS draconian IMO. You weren't allowed to bring ANYTHING with you but your wallet or/and keys. I heard from other people over there that even the little kids had to hand over their toy shovels, buckets ect. Rediculous if you ask me..
It is good to hear some of the stories handed down, thanks for sharing. Growing up my best friend’s dad was in the POW camps during WWII and the only story if you can call it a story he would share with us was his POW number spoken in German and he never would tell more.
Bob
Bob
- Joined
- Apr 17, 2003
- Messages
- 5,283
WWII stories for the ones who experienced it are never easy, I know both my grand fathers stories (one was dutch resistance, the other in new guinea with the 2/6th armoured regiment)...I however dont recant their stories but may do so when I have a son at an age he is ready, they never told anyone, especially their wife, but felt I needed to hear what happened when I was old enough. What they went through then had to form a normal life after makes them larger than life to me, my grandfather is my hero.
I do like to read the stories people have handed down though, especially first hand from the one that was there.
I do like to read the stories people have handed down though, especially first hand from the one that was there.
kamagong
Gold Member
- Joined
- Jan 13, 2001
- Messages
- 10,940
Ice cold and made with real sugar, not the stuff that they make with corn syrup nowadays. I don't know why they ever switched over. Maybe Americans aren't all that discriminating because Coke still makes the real stuff in other countries. I was able to find a Mexican grocery that carries it, imported from Mexico. Had a bottle last night with some sweet white corn and carne asada I grilled up. Ahhh...Can't Beat the Real Thing.
- Christian
- Christian
- Joined
- Feb 22, 2007
- Messages
- 9,008
Ice cold and made with real sugar, not the stuff that they make with corn syrup nowadays. I don't know why they ever switched over. Maybe Americans aren't all that discriminating because Coke still makes the real stuff in other countries. I was able to find a Mexican grocery that carries it, imported from Mexico. Had a bottle last night with some sweet white corn and carne asada I grilled up. Ahhh...Can't Beat the Real Thing.
- Christian
They have it at the deli on the corner by me. Good stuff
- Joined
- Jan 2, 2011
- Messages
- 1,118
Ok guys, had a disappointing delivery today. Case mini-copperhead, ss with chestnut bone scales.
Was pretty excited to try it out, not having one of the pattern. Well, after opening the wrapper I was very put off by the color of the bone. Chestnut? Not really. It was the exact same tone of pink as the palm of my hand, and the deep canyon jigging basically looked like a Halloween fake wound in a flesh-colored knife. My reaction was to say "Gah!" and re-wrap it.
But then I thought of something: there's a bottle of RIT liquid dye on hand, color brown. So I've dropped the fleshwound mini copperhead into a baggie with a generous helping of brown dye on top. If it works, you guys will get pictures. If it doesn't work, I may have to kill it with fire.
Sorry for the mini-rant, gents. Sometimes crushed expectations can be a real downer. I'm optimistic the brown will mend all wounds
Was pretty excited to try it out, not having one of the pattern. Well, after opening the wrapper I was very put off by the color of the bone. Chestnut? Not really. It was the exact same tone of pink as the palm of my hand, and the deep canyon jigging basically looked like a Halloween fake wound in a flesh-colored knife. My reaction was to say "Gah!" and re-wrap it.
But then I thought of something: there's a bottle of RIT liquid dye on hand, color brown. So I've dropped the fleshwound mini copperhead into a baggie with a generous helping of brown dye on top. If it works, you guys will get pictures. If it doesn't work, I may have to kill it with fire.
Sorry for the mini-rant, gents. Sometimes crushed expectations can be a real downer. I'm optimistic the brown will mend all wounds
- Joined
- Feb 22, 2007
- Messages
- 9,008
So tomorrow is Mother's Day. I sat down for less than an hour with a block of walnut and my SHARP 57. I have never whittled wood this soft. Let's just say it felt like butter. I had to remove the same amount of wood as there is left on the carving. Its the first time I have done a flower and the first time I have stained such a soft wood. A few mistakes. The flower was a ton more pronouced and figured before resurfacing the front to remove stain that bled. Anyhow, she will like it on her window sill. I made it to stand but also to look like it shouldn't be able to
Here it is, mistakes and all. I only learn one way...
Don't forget your mothers
Here it is, mistakes and all. I only learn one way...
Don't forget your mothers
- Joined
- Feb 22, 2007
- Messages
- 9,008
I took this today. It's my son's year old Vishla, Molly, trying to figure out what that critter is.
Hope all you mothers and your mothers have a great day!
Gary,
Great looking pup. It really makes me think my mut has some Vishla in him
Kevin
Well, I'm in the process of trimming back my knife assortment and things in general. For things in general it's because I'm only 5-10 years away from retirement, at which time I plan on moving and I don't want to be hauling a bunch of stuff with me. For the knives, I love them all, but I only carry a few and I think I'll be more comfortable if I scale back to a dozen or so. There are times when I feel pretty uncomfortable letting all them pretty, sharp, and pointy things leave, but I think it's a good decision.
Last edited:
You're not gonna regret the decision to do this. I did it not long after my own retirement, and so far of all the guns, knives, tools, clothing, and other stuff I'd accumulated for decades, I haven't missed any of it. Okay, once in a while I'd have a thought of 'should I have kept the so-and-so?' but not much. Not enough to overcome the great feeling of liberation I had by trimming back to where I was when I was younger and more mobile. It even made my current life easier, as now when I go to find what ever I'm looking for, I can lay my hands right on it as I don't have that much stuff anymore. The wife did her own downsizing as well, and now the house is very neat, almost sparse, and organized. We talk about selling the house and going full time RV'ing or living on a houseboat in Florida on the gulf coast. Won't be room for a lot of stuff.
Carl.
Carl.
- Joined
- Oct 30, 2010
- Messages
- 2,109
I'm trying to thin stuff out as well. I've been giving my son heirloom guns and what not. His turn to enjoy some of that stuff.
I've been threatening to do just that for a long time now, only a sailboat as opposed to a houseboat. There's even less room on one of those.jackknife said:
-Bruce