Giveaway - Tell me a knife story

Thanks for the giveaway, that's very kind of you. This is not an entry, just wanted to share one of my favorite knife stories,I still have this knife and it mean more to me than most of my other knives, enjoy.

I'm in, i've always liked that knife and to have a chance to own it in damascus is too much to pass up...

Here's a story, although I did post it before I think it fits in with this giveaway, btw a belated congrats on the belated 1K.

Awhile back, (in 2006) I had just returned from a 4 week visit with family to Hungary and vacation in some surrounding countries, This was my Grandfathers knife, he used it 30 years ago the last time I saw him(I was 15 then) to cut Kielbasa and smoked/cured meats in the pantry for our afternoon meals along with cutting up bread and onions and peppers to go with the ham.

My cousin found it in the basement and gave it to me as a gift when I went home.

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It's gotta be over 60 years old and other than the pitting/character it's as strong as the day he let me use it to cut myself a piece of kielbasa the last day I saw him.

Here's a pick of my Grandfather, Aunts and Uncles back in the day.

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I hadn't even thought of that day or the knife in nearly 30 years, her giving me that knife brought a tear to this old Mad Hungarians eye.

It says Gerlach Poland on the tang I'm not even sure what kind of wood it has for handles, anyone ever seen or heard of this brand.

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Thanks for the contest/give away, in all honesty I had posted this story in the Traditional Forum a while back but the story and knife bring back very fond memories of a time that was long ago.:)

BTW the trip was great, great food, great booze. great family.
 
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I have already mentioned this in the Barlow thread but this seems like a great place to post it.

Recently when I was at work (I work in a vineyard) I realised at the end of the day that knife was no longer in my pocket.
This wouldn't have bothered me so much if it was a SAK or rough rider but it was my 2 blade clip-Charlow! :eek:
A couple of days after I had looked through the rows of vines we had been working on, my workmate brought in his four thousand dollar metal detector that he uses for gold prospecting. After looking everywhere with it, and coming up with nothing, we decided to call it lost and gone. On the drive back to the wineries' office we remembered picking up some eucalyptus sticks to use as kindling, and so decided to have a quick look for it there. While commenting on the fact that the grass had been mowed earlier that day, and that the caramel colour of the antique amber bone looked like the Autum leaves that have been falling (It's winter down here) I was looking at a pile of them and thinking of how great the colour was I realised that not all of them were leaves... :D
It had rusted over the days it had been there, as it had been raining, but there wasn't much rust on the knife and it was an easy cleanup with some autosol.

Even though I've only had it for a short while, this knife has been through a lot. it has a small crack in the pile-side bone, numerous scratches and divets, and from this event it now has slightly mottled bone colouring and a some unusual pitting on the bolster. In my eyes it just adds character and memories, to what I consider as 'my' knife. Hopefully it will continue to remain in my pocket for years to come.
 
Very nice contest for a great knife.

I was 15 years old and in high school when my parents divorced, after 17 years of marriage.

I was fortunate in that my mother remarried to a fine gentleman named Harold. I love my father, and I was proud to also love my step-father, who always treated me with respect. I never felt as though I was simply his "step-son".

When I was a little older, I saved up and bought Harold a nice Case small pen knife in red pocket worn bone.

Harold loved that knife, and he literally beamed on that Christmas day when he opened it, and it made me very proud to see him enjoying that little blade.

Harold worked hard as a pipe insulator, and he used his little Case for several years in his workaday life.

My mother, never one to keep a secret, told me one day that Harold was distraught that he had lost his little pen knife. He did not want me to know, because he was just that kind of guy.

I had achieved a better job by that time, and I had enough disposable income to go to the local hardware and feed store where I had bought the first knife and I was able to order a replacement.

I gave Harold the replacement on his birthday, which, luckily rolled around at just the right time to coincide with the delivery of the replacement knife.

Harold was very touched with the replacement, I could tell.

It was not too much longer that Harold found the original knife, buried deep in his recliner in the living room. You know the kind of recliner, the kind that a working man sinks into every day after a hard day's work and enjoys his evening, eventually nodding off to sleep after a good meal.

Sadly, Harold's job led to a terrible cancer that eventually took him from us.

On his passing, the two pen knives were left, and my mother thought that I should have them.

Since there were two, I decided that Harold would have wanted his grandson (my step-brothers boy), to have one of these knives. I gave the grandson, Chase, the newer "replacement" knife to keep as a lifelong treasure. I believe he still has that little knife today.

I kept the original knife as a momento of a great man. I pull it out each August to carry and remember a man who always treated me very well and never made me feel like I was not part of his family.

Plus, Harold had the same love for knives that many of us share.

RIP, Harold.

Here are a couple of pictures of the knife I will have until my demise, and that will go to my Grandson on my passing.

DSC_2621.jpegDSC_2614.jpegDSC_2615.jpegDSC_2618.jpeg

best

mqqn
 
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.:cool: If I had not worked in Papua New Guinea myself, I would find Maprik's story about his spirit-filled knife hard to believe. As a teacher in Papua New Guinea (PNG) for three years, though, I am aware of how seriously people there believe in magic. I was in Goroka, a college town in the Highlands - a much less isolated area than the Sepik.

My only knife from PNG is a Tramontina (Brasil) that I purchased there, used for gardening, and still have. It came with a leather sheath, and the total price was only about US$6. People in PNG treat knives and axes as basic household tools.

While I have no stories about a "magic" knife, I do know how a thin veneer of civilization covers much of PNG and how quickly the veneer can be peeled away. One of my students at our teachers college came to me and asked to make up a Physics exam he missed. Why? "You see, Faiaoga, I went home to visit my family and there was a tribal fight. My brother was killed and eaten by the enemy village - I had to stay for the funeral." Needless to say, I allowed him to make up the test.
Faiaoga
 
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meako said:
Yeah, there was steak and kidney in the pie! He never saw the knife again unfortunately!


whats the best thing to put on a British meat pie?
$10.00 each way.

boom tish!
Click to expand...

LOL! :D

Great story Ted, that knife is a beauty :thumbup:

Really enjoying this thread :)
 
Faiaoga!!! I wanted to send you a PM or email but you don't have them activated! I worked for the IMR (institute for medical research) which was based in Goroka, although I was stationed in a remote lab in Maprik, East Sepik. I've been to Goroka many times and looked forward to downing a few SPs at the Goroka Hotel. Coming from the bush it was oh so civilized!!!!
 
Maprik: you can e-mail me at rogerc_96950@hotmail.com if you want to review SP beer or
Gold Cup brandy. I am now in Hawaii (Big Island) and staying with family here.

My Tramontina purchased in Goroka never had any exciting adventures in PNG, but I brought it back to American Samoa, Saipan, Guam and now Hawaii. It has a good edge from being sharpened so many times and is still a useful tool. I may never be able to revisit PNG, but I have fond memories of work in Goroka and visits to Rabaul, Lae, Madang and other places.

Lukim yu,
Faiaoga ("schoolteacher" in Samoan)
 
I hunted with my father for deer from the age of 3.At age 5 i was allowed to carry the knife on our excursions,and i often carried my red Trojan horse as well (a wee toy)..On one particular hunt when i was a little bit older we camped on the side of a ridge til dawn.I left the knife at camp and father shot a huge stag about two hours walk away,and yes i was severely berated for leaving the knife behind.The old man beat that 308 cartridge over and cut the stag open below the brisket with it about 20 -30 inches.It was quite a horror story watching this gutting process and it took the better part of 2 hours for him to do this...I learnt many lessons that day.......This knife here is as close as i can remember to what the knife was like....great memories...... p.s.... the next week the old man went hunting and saw 5 deer in a group very close..he had left his ammo behind.. FES

 
I thought of you when I was out on the Yorkshire range the other day Fes ;)

 
My dad was, and still is a one knife man. He has carried a USA Schrade SP-3 lock back for literally as long as I can remember. Two huge memories stick out in my mind. The first is watching him free hand sharpen his knife on an old oil stone. I have no idea what it was, but it was fine on both sides. I'd watch him as he got it sharp enough to shave hair. I particularly remember him sitting on the steps into our family room one evening. I don't know why that particular time sticks out in my head. Even now, the smell of 3-in-1 oil takes me back to that evening, that particular memory. I use 3-in-1 oil on oil stones too. Not for any real reason, but it works it holds memories.

The other requires a bit of explanation. My mom and dad farm. Every spring, my day would put the saddle tanks on the front of his biggest tractor and spray the fields as he used a piece of tillage equipment called a till-all or a do-all. Saddle tanks are usually 200ish gallon tanks that mount to the frame in front of the back wheels but behind the front wheels. His had the spray booms built into the bottom. We had an old 1960s something Chevrolet 2-ton dump bed truck that had a big green 1500 gallon water tank in the back. In addition to the water tank, it had all the chemicals, herbicides mostly, in 2 1/2 gallon jugs and a gas powered water pump. E pump had a long hose with a shut off valve at the end and it hung along the outside of the truck. One of my jobs was to sit in the truck until dad needed to refill the water. I would pull the truck up along the field, then start the pump, drag that huge (it wasn't that huge, but I wasn't very old either) hose around to the back so dad could use it to fill his tanks. He'd pull up, grab a jug of chemical, and use his knife to cut open the foil seal on the top. I can't smell glyphosate without thinking of my dad, his knife, and many hours I watched and learned about life and hard work from him. I use about 1/1000 of the glyphosate 41% a year that my dad does, but every time I smell it, I think of him.

I bought two of these knives when I was in high school. I worked as a truck boy for a local grocery store. There was a lot of breaking down cardboard boxes, which as you all know dulls the living day lights out of a knife. I started carrying two to keep one sharp and one for boxes. I've lost one along the way, but I still have the one that has a "C" scratched into it. C for cardboard. :)

When I started making slipjoints, I found myself oddly attracted to swell ends and especially the Bose Zulu spears. I wondered what about them attracted me so much. Then, I figured it out. The swell ends and the Zulus are both plain Jane, hard working knives, like the men I grew up with. Plain and hardworking. But even more, the Zulu bears a striking resemblance to the knife I carried 15 years ago, and the knife my father has carried for a long time.

Shown here with the Zulu I'm working on now.

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The "C".
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Medicevans: I have an identical Schrade in my pocket right now, and I have purchased several from the same place (hardware store sold them for a good price). They are good knives for the money, and they are the right size for me. :cool:
 
This is the knife the Navy gave my Father during WW2. He was an engineer on board the USS Lake Champlain. I always admired it as did my 3 Brothers. About 35 yaers ago he gave it to me to keep until the day comes when I want to give it to another family member to carry on. Well 10 years ago I was going through a brutal divorce and lost everything I owned. Part of the divorce agreement was that My X would turn over my Father's knife. I had moved 2,000 miles away so I had to send my Brother over to pick it up. It was like pulling teeth to get my X to agree to hand it over but she finally got off her broom and did it. My Brother took it home and set it on his work bench. At the same time my Brother was getting his roof repaired and the the knife disappeared. We thought the contractor took it but he denied even seeing it. I was heart broken my Father has past away and this is the only thing I have of his. Last year it came to me in the mail from my Brother. It turned out it had only fallen behind the bench. Now it's tucked away in my safe with the original sheath my Father made for it while in the Navy so long ago.
 
My knife story concerns machetes and a lesson I learned about real MacGyver skills.

While working in Samoa, I was driving down the road in a light automobile when a tire blew out. I got out to check for a spare tire and jack - no jack. As I stood scratching my university-educated head in frustration, four local men came by on their way home from the taro plantation.

In Samoa, Every Day Carry means a machete (bush knife or "sapelu") with an 18 inch blade. The local men sized up the situation, then cut and trimmed a tree trunk about 12 feet long. They found a large rock to use as a fulcrum, then levered up my car and changed the tire. Problem solved. When teaching science students in the Pacific islands, I tell this story and ask "Who knew about simple machines: the science teacher or the village men?" Answer is always "The village men".
 
When I was a little boy my grandfather gave to both my brother and I Barlow knives. I remember asking him, "you got our names printed on the knives?" He said "yes I did." I believed him for years. Then one day I say a Barlow knife in the store and I realized that it was a pattern and not just our family name. I have since lost my grandfather but I still have the knife.
 
That Jackknife with CV and those bonehandles has intriged me for a few years. Being in Sweden its hard to hit the trigger as the bullet must travel long way and I already has a stockman on this frame. Now is a opportunity to let existence and luck has my card.

I send you a picture of my summer/yearly maintainance on the knifes that need oil on the handles. All of theese has taken a bath in raw linseed oil and balsam terpentine. 50/50 % Sometimes I use boiled linseed oil also as it dryes faster. This gives a rather hard and waterresistant surfase and also go deeper into the wood. Wery good for the pivotarea on the Opinels to. The Eca most left is a 88 and the curly birch of it was unprepared when new??? Now after a year its rather good but drinks the oil deep still.



Bosse
 
I wasn't a knife kid when I was young. Like I said earlier, my dad was a one knife guy, and I grew up like that as well. My very first knife was a little lockback with turquoise green plastic body. I have no idea where that knife went. However, it would have had to been very shortly after that I got the knife in this picture. I used it on many little boy adventures until a scale fell off, then it got stuck in the sock drawer and mostly forgotten. It traveled through numerous moves and ended up in a box, again forgotten, where I found it when we were unpacking after buying our house.

I had started getting interested in knives, so it got put in my jewelry box and forgotten instead of in a box and forgotten. I was perusing the exchange one evening when I saw Vanguard's post selling an older imperial Kamp King. I rushed upstairs and retrieved my old knife. Holding it up to the screen it seemed very similar. Once I bought then received the old Imperial, I realized that my new knife was similar, but not the same. That's when I started learning about Imperial's changes throughout the years.

I went on a buying binge, buying two more Kamp Kings. (Short lived binge. Lol). They were really neat, but not exactly right. I cleaned the tang stamp a bit more on my old forgotten. Imperial Ireland. Ohhhhhh.......that's why. Late death throes Imperial.

One night, I found my exact knife, still in the original blister pack from 1994! It doesn't get any more mint than that! I considered keeping it in the package for about 5 seconds. I am a user, not a collector and I knew that carrying the knife from my childhood would make me happier than seeing it on the dresser in the original packaging. Now, I know some of you are asking yourselves, "Why is this guy getting excited about a $15 knife?" You see, I often wondered why I kept that old broken knife around all these years. I still don't know, but when I see the new knife next to my old forgotten, I get excited. I love seeing a relic of simpler times in my life, back when life was easy, days were sunny, and life held all the promises of youth.

The knives are leaning against a piece of redbud wood. My parents cut down the diseased tree on their property a few years ago. It was about the only tree that had limbs low enough to climb. I have many, many great memories sitting in that tree reading, swinging from the branches, and just being a boy and climbing too high and taking too many chances. I can still feel the pain (in my mind) of strained muscles in my chest and arms from swinging a little too hard from a high branch. It brings a smile to my face. :)

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