First cut

H

Hoodoo

Joined
Aug 18, 1999
Messages
2,355
The thread on your first knife got me thinking about the first time I REALLY cut myself with a knife. I was 10 or 11. I was slicing on a stick with a jack knife while sitting on a chunk of wood. I went over the end of the stick and right into my leg, abut 2" above the knee. It was a deep cut and I still have the scar. Foolish me.
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Hoodoo

I get some pleasure from finding a relentlessly peaceful use for a combative looking knife.
JKM
 
I was cutting duct tape with a razor blade when I was 11 and slashed into my index finger.

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Chang the Asian Janitorial Apparatus
 
I was in the hospital at around 10 - 11 years old when I got my first fixed blade knife, (a knife and hatchet combo - I think from Case), as a sort of 'sorry you're in the hospital' gift from my Dad. As I was 'examining' the edge, I put a nice slice in my forefinger.

As the blood ran out onto the nice white hospital sheets, my Mother said to my Dad: I TOLD you not to get him a knife!" Dad just smiled while holding his handkerchief tightly on my finger and said, "Don't worry. It won't happen again for a long time, will it son?" "No sir!", I said with the clear unmistakeable feeling of trepidation that came with the words, 'will it son'. And it didn't.

But ya gotta admit I was in the right place for something like that to happen!
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Champions make improvements as fast as losers make excuses.
 
The first time I really cut myself was (listen up, New Jersey dwellers) in Harry's Army & Navy. I couldn't have been more than 14, and my dad had driven me over to examine the new crop of knives. I was handling one, I wish I could remember the brand, that required the user to grab the grooved sections on the choil and spine of the blade and pull away from the handle to fold the knife, kind of like a Timberline Neelylock. I wasn't paying attention, and ran my thumb along the entire edge of the knife. My father took the knife from my numb little fingers, wiped it off, placed it back on the counter, and drove me to the emergency room. To this day, I have no feeling in the tip of my thumb. Not more than three months later, I was cutting a rolled up pizza box in half with an Executive Edge Grande (anyone remember those? or know where to find them??) and I kind of overshot and ended up with it sticking an inch and a half into my thigh. When my mother drove me to the hospital that time, the doctor asked me, "Is everything OK at home, son?" I laughed out loud. My mother wasn't nearly as amused...
 
Esav Benyamin,
Looks like you can order direct from Executive Edge. Just follow the "Pen Pals" link on the home page and then click on the model you want; it takes you to their order page.


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Dave

Let no one ever from henceforth say one word in any way countenancing war. It is dangerous even to speak of how here and there the individual may gain some hardship of soul by it. For war is hell, and those who institute it are criminals. Siegfried Loraine Sassoon
 
The first time I remember REALLY cutting myself... must have been about 9 or 10 years old. I was wittl'n a stick to a sharp point (killing some time on a hot Oklahoma July day) on my grandparents porch. I was using a brand new Victorinox Swiss Army Knife and it was SHARP! The damn thing folded up on me and startled me at the same time. I jerked my hand and cut the middle knuckle on my right hand all the way to the bone. There was so much blood that I couldn't get the door knob to turn. I even switched hand but the knob was to slick with blood. I had to have my finger in a splint for 2 weeks or so. The only benefit was that I got to give everyone the bird for a while
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"Paranoia is simply a state of heightened awareness"

"Chance favors the prepared mind."
 
I was about 7 or8 I guess. My dad and I were cleaning out the garage and he found an old pocket knife of his. He showed it to me and I thought it was the coolest thing in the world. Later, I went back into the garage alone and started fooling with it. I don't remeber exactly how it happened but I gave myself a real good cut. Blood everywhere. My dad bandaged me up and said, "I was going to give you that but you just showed you are not ready for it yet." I was crushed and the knife was since lost.
 
It's kind of interesting that knives can evoke such powerful memories, not only of our mishaps, but about relationships with others.

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Hoodoo

I get some pleasure from finding a relentlessly peaceful use for a combative looking knife.
JKM
 
I was eight or nine and had had a hard summer day, climbing fences, riding bikes, etc. Some friends and I went into c corner store and bought a stick of pepperoni. We cut it up outside with my 112. I went to close it but having had an exhaustive day didn't have the strength to work the lock (it is still a very stong lock 25 years later). Used both hands (ahh, for the innocence, or stupidity, of youth) and closed the blade on my hand. You can still see the scar on the small finger of my right hand.

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It is not the fall that kills you. It is the realization that "yes, you did something that stupid."
 
I did the same thing as Hoodoo. I too have a scar above my left knee from this. I was lucky because the knife was medium sharp and I wasn't applying much force when I slipped.

The most sobering icident was when I was about 9 years old, at a church camp. I was using a hatchet a small stick against a cutting board (read "wooden porch deck") and broguth the blade down, gently, against the side of my left thumb. Lesson learned!
 
Probably about 6 or 7 - sliced my finger good chopping carrots with a kitchen knife. Of course this happened just when my mom had left the room, after telling me to be careful. I figured I was going to get punished, so ran from the kitchen into the bathroom and wrapped a towel around my finger to stop the bleeding.

Thing is, when my mom came back into the kitchen from the backyard, she _knew_ I'd cut myself anyway, since I'd left a lot of blood on the newspaper and the floor, and a trail into the bathroom. D'oh!!
 
Jeez....We all seem to have given ourselves that first nasty cut about the same age!

About 9 or 10....Got mine from an old knife I found somewhere around our first house. It was a Hobo knife with fake plastic "jigged bone" scales.

I opened the main blade, stood about 5 feet from the maple tree in front of our house, and just flung that sucker! It bounced right back at me and hit the index finger on my throwing hand. My first anatomy lesson! 34 years later, the scar remains.

AL

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"When loss and gain are alike to one, that is real gain.."
 
The first cut I remember clearly was when I was 10 or 11 and it happened the exact same way as Chang's, only I was cutting linoleum.
Decided to help my dad while he was out of the room so I picked up the razor and sliced right across my index finger. Well, that's not how I planned to help him but that is the result of trying.
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After cutting myself, I knew I was in trouble for playing with the razor so I ran to the bathroom to wash it and wrap it in toilet paper. My parents figured out I was cut when they saw the trail of blood leading up the stairs and into the bathroom.

[This message has been edited by Disco Stu (edited 10-10-2000).]
 
First cut was (deep) into the web between my thumb and index finger with a bow saw
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...now here's one that'll piss you off if you ever experience it- washing dishes and working on one of those ceramic coffee mugs that your hand barely fits into. Well, three of my fingers would fit inside to reach the bottom right?...while the other (pinky) was hanging over the edge I found that the mug was chipped badly on the rim when it sliced right into the web between the last two digits,...stiches deep. Now that'll get the nerves unsettled when you ever have to wash mugs again
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I was about five. My dad was shaving or something, and I picked up a razor blade. He told me it was sharp and to be careful.

Really? I ran my thumb over it to feel it and got cut.

Experience is the best teacher.
 
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