The Japanese have a saying that a man travels a full circle in his life. I think I may have have traveled a couple circles, but I'm back where I was in pocket knives. The soddie has returned in my life.
I carried a lot of soddies in the mid 1980's. The 80's was the hight of my soddie maddness. Case's, Eye-brand's, Klass's, Herter, and a no name. Big soddies and junior soddies. Yellow handles and wood handles. When I did my great downsizing, I kept a few hide outs of my older and most valued stuff. Strange what may be found in the bottom of the underwear drawer.
When I had the second round of hand problems, and dealing with small pocket knves with stiff springs became a thing of the past, I experimented with some lockblades. My gifted Henckels locking sodbuster got me thinking (thank you again Kamagong!) about knives that can be pinched open without needed fine movements involving nail nicks. Age and arthritis makes you change and adapt to new ways of doing things. Like finally retiring that old Cross pen I've had since the 1960's, and getting a Pilot G2 with the fatter barrel and nice little rubber area where you grip the pen. Like making sure you tell the pharmisist NOT to give you child proof caps on you perscriptions.
And using pocket knives that can be pinched open easy.
Of late I've also been going through a change of carrying the old carbon blades instead of stainless. I'd had a on again and off again love affair with Opinels since 1982, when I got my first one. Nothing much comes close to cutting like a fresh stropped Opy. Exept maybe a fresh stropped soddie. After using the beautiful wood handle Henckels for a while, I thought about my old yella CV soddie. I found myself going upstairs and rooting through the drawer, taking out the BVD's and going through the stuff that had accumulated in the bottom of the drawer. Old AA and AAA flashlights, a few old pocket knives, an old pocket watch, stuff of decades. Then I saw the yellow. The banana knife.
When my daughter Jessica was 5 or 6ish, she'd called my soddie the banana knife. I could see how a little girl would do that; it's yellow, it's curved, and it could look like it should be called the banana knife. I picked it up and the years fell away.
Like I said, it's a funny thing about old pocket knives; they don't feel like a stranger, even if it's been a decade or longer. Soon as I wrapped my fingers around it, it felt like it was only yesterday I last held it. Like an old army buddy you run into, there's instant feeling of familiarness. It's good.
So I touched up the blade, and dropped it into my right hand pocket. I used it for a few days, and it was like stepping back someplace. Last time I'd carried this knife I had been on a cross country motorcycle trip. Now I take it out and I can recall the smell of burning juniper as I made a hot cup of tea while watching the sun rise shine on the wall of a canyon in southern Utah. Or a fishing trip with family where we built a driftwood fire and cooked the fish right there. Or your child calling it a banana knife.
I've made the discovery that when you carry a knife for many years, then retire it, and come back to it at a later time, it's way better than buying new knife. A new knife has no memories, and takes years to build them. The old knife coming out of retirement has all those old memories just waiting for you to rediscover. It's a comfortable feeling. Like putting on an old pair of boots.
The other day Jess stopped by, and Karen and Jess and myself were sitting and having a snack and tea. I needed to cut open the cardboard seal on the new bottle of honey that they put on under the screw off top. Rather than get up and go in the kitchen for a sharp knife, I took out my junior CV soddie and did the deed. Jess looks at the knife and says " Oh my God, you still have the banana knife!"
Some memories are priceless.
I carried a lot of soddies in the mid 1980's. The 80's was the hight of my soddie maddness. Case's, Eye-brand's, Klass's, Herter, and a no name. Big soddies and junior soddies. Yellow handles and wood handles. When I did my great downsizing, I kept a few hide outs of my older and most valued stuff. Strange what may be found in the bottom of the underwear drawer.
When I had the second round of hand problems, and dealing with small pocket knves with stiff springs became a thing of the past, I experimented with some lockblades. My gifted Henckels locking sodbuster got me thinking (thank you again Kamagong!) about knives that can be pinched open without needed fine movements involving nail nicks. Age and arthritis makes you change and adapt to new ways of doing things. Like finally retiring that old Cross pen I've had since the 1960's, and getting a Pilot G2 with the fatter barrel and nice little rubber area where you grip the pen. Like making sure you tell the pharmisist NOT to give you child proof caps on you perscriptions.
And using pocket knives that can be pinched open easy.
Of late I've also been going through a change of carrying the old carbon blades instead of stainless. I'd had a on again and off again love affair with Opinels since 1982, when I got my first one. Nothing much comes close to cutting like a fresh stropped Opy. Exept maybe a fresh stropped soddie. After using the beautiful wood handle Henckels for a while, I thought about my old yella CV soddie. I found myself going upstairs and rooting through the drawer, taking out the BVD's and going through the stuff that had accumulated in the bottom of the drawer. Old AA and AAA flashlights, a few old pocket knives, an old pocket watch, stuff of decades. Then I saw the yellow. The banana knife.
When my daughter Jessica was 5 or 6ish, she'd called my soddie the banana knife. I could see how a little girl would do that; it's yellow, it's curved, and it could look like it should be called the banana knife. I picked it up and the years fell away.
Like I said, it's a funny thing about old pocket knives; they don't feel like a stranger, even if it's been a decade or longer. Soon as I wrapped my fingers around it, it felt like it was only yesterday I last held it. Like an old army buddy you run into, there's instant feeling of familiarness. It's good.
So I touched up the blade, and dropped it into my right hand pocket. I used it for a few days, and it was like stepping back someplace. Last time I'd carried this knife I had been on a cross country motorcycle trip. Now I take it out and I can recall the smell of burning juniper as I made a hot cup of tea while watching the sun rise shine on the wall of a canyon in southern Utah. Or a fishing trip with family where we built a driftwood fire and cooked the fish right there. Or your child calling it a banana knife.
I've made the discovery that when you carry a knife for many years, then retire it, and come back to it at a later time, it's way better than buying new knife. A new knife has no memories, and takes years to build them. The old knife coming out of retirement has all those old memories just waiting for you to rediscover. It's a comfortable feeling. Like putting on an old pair of boots.
The other day Jess stopped by, and Karen and Jess and myself were sitting and having a snack and tea. I needed to cut open the cardboard seal on the new bottle of honey that they put on under the screw off top. Rather than get up and go in the kitchen for a sharp knife, I took out my junior CV soddie and did the deed. Jess looks at the knife and says " Oh my God, you still have the banana knife!"
Some memories are priceless.
)