I own a bar with a friend of mine. It's a modest place, small but popular, and a decent amount of folks come into and out of the place. Tonight my friend tells me, "Look what I found," and shows me a smaller leather pouch sheath with a knife in it. I take it in the back room and take a look, pull it out of the sheath--it's an OLD Schrade skinner, sharpened down to a curved razor an 1/8" from just behind the tip to midway down the blade and what looked like phenolic scales. It had a patina like your grandfather's ball peen hammer that lived in the shed for 40 years, mottled, gorgeous, untouched. First thing in my head was "somebody used this knife." My friend said he found it on the stairs down to our bar, I told him, "someone will be back for this."
Sure enough, a guy comes up to the bar and says his friend lost her knife, "Let me describe it to you."--I told him no need, went in the back room and grabbed it. When I came back, the girl who had lost it was waiting. She was almost crying and as I handed it to her, said, "You have no idea who gave me this...." I told her, "Yeah, I do, do him a favor and take care of it." I swear she clutched it to her heart and told me, "Thank you," and left. I felt good.
When I told her I knew who gave it to her, I wasn't lying. A man who loved that little girl very much gave her that knife, after using and caring for it for a very long time. I felt him when I unsheathed that knife--any sense of greed or desire for it disappeared, and I knew someone would be back for it and find it. I'm not a person who is given to lights of fancy, but it was as strong a feeling as I've ever had, and I'm glad I was a part of getting that knife back to the right person.
Sure enough, a guy comes up to the bar and says his friend lost her knife, "Let me describe it to you."--I told him no need, went in the back room and grabbed it. When I came back, the girl who had lost it was waiting. She was almost crying and as I handed it to her, said, "You have no idea who gave me this...." I told her, "Yeah, I do, do him a favor and take care of it." I swear she clutched it to her heart and told me, "Thank you," and left. I felt good.
When I told her I knew who gave it to her, I wasn't lying. A man who loved that little girl very much gave her that knife, after using and caring for it for a very long time. I felt him when I unsheathed that knife--any sense of greed or desire for it disappeared, and I knew someone would be back for it and find it. I'm not a person who is given to lights of fancy, but it was as strong a feeling as I've ever had, and I'm glad I was a part of getting that knife back to the right person.