Hank was a happy man.
Being somewhat thrifty by nature, he was not really one to spend money on himself. But this day his wife had surprised him with a new pocket knife. She had good naturedly scolded him about the old knife with the missing scale and blades worn skinny by years of sharpening. This night he had a brand new Case peanut. It was a far nicer pocket knife than he'd have bought himself, and he was deeply touched by his wife's generosity. The little pocket knife became a personal treasure to him. Like his old knife, it was an extension of his index finger. He kept the knife sharp by stropping it every night so's not to have to sharpen it as often.
At Christmas time and father's day, he'd slowly and carefully use the little peanut to open gifts by slitting along just where the clear Scotch tape was. No brain surgeon used more care than Hank Parker with his little bone handle peanut. His kids would watch in tormented impatience as Hank slowly removed the gift wrap from whatever he was given, in one intact piece, instead of ripping it open. He'd hand the gift paper to his wife Molly to save.
"You kids never had to live through the depression." He'd tell them kindly.
Hank and Molly had a good life. Hank had a good job at the plant in town, and Molly did alot of work at the church. They raised thier children, and then came grandkids. Old Hank took great pleasure in teaching his grandson to whittle with the now older peanut. Then came the shooting lessons with his old Winchester model 67 .22 rifle. Many a soup can met it's doom at the hands of Hank, and his grandson Scott. And a few marauding rabits that tried to raid the garden ended up in a pot. Hank and Molly loved thier garden, and spent many an evening weeding, and caring for the produce they used in their dining.
But no paradise is forever.
One day in his retirement, Hank was working in the garden and the tightness came in his chest. He stopped for a moment to get his breath, and the pain shot down his left arm. Molly dialed the rescue squad down the road and Hank was at the local hospital in minutes. But it was not to be. A shocked Molly was handed a manilla envelope of Hank's personel affects that had been in his pockets. Later at home, she dumped the contents out on the dresser and looked at them. A comb, a bandana, his wallet, and the little red bone handle Case knife. Molly picked it up and held it to her lips, wondering if any vestige of Hank was still there.
In time Molly went on with her life as we all do from grief, and she kept the little peanut close to her. It was always in the pocket of the Cardigan sweater she wore, and she used it often. Once at church, she was opening a box of candles and Sister Marie came over to her and asked if she was okay. Molly has sliced through the tape holding the box of candles shut, and as she closed the peanut, she very briefly closed her hand around it and held it for a moment and thought of Hank.
"Of course I'm okay Sister. I was just remembering my husband. He carried this pocket knife for thirty years. Now I carry it to have a bit of him close to me."
Sister Marie nodded and walked away. Later she voiced concern to the priest. Father Hogan shrugged, and said if that helps her deal with her loss, so be it.
The best time for Molly was when the grandson came to visit. Scott had gown into a tall teenager now. She and Scott would work on the garden, and one summer Scott fenced it all in with chicken wire so the rabbits couldn't get to it. Molly handed him the little peanut to sharpen the stakes that he was driving into the ground. Scott looked at the little knife.
"I miss him Grandma."
"As do I Scott." the elderly lady replied.
Later as they sat on the porch and had iced tea, Molly told him she wanted the Case to go to him.
"Nothing is going to happen to you, grandma, you're going to be around a long time yet. Don't talk like that. he said.
"No, I'm an old lady now, and I just want you to understand that I want you and nobody else to have Hank's knife and the .22 rifle in the bedroom closet." I know that Hank would want it that way." said Molly.
A few years later, time took it's inevitable course, and Scott was grief sticken. He'd been close to both his grandparents, and now both were gone. A few days after the funeral, his father came to him with a rifle case and the Case pocket knife. Scott had become the keeper of Hank's rifle and pocket knife.
The peanut went into Scott's pocket, and went everplace with him. He knew he'd be in trouble in school over a knife, but he didn't care. He kept it out of sight, and time and again he'd slide his hand into his pocket and feel the smooth worn bone and think of his grandparents.
The teenager beccame a young man off to college. He'd shown a strong love of helping animals, and he had deceided to become a Veterinarian. Off at college he studied, partied, and set about making the rest of his life. The little worn peanut still rode in his pocket everyday. Then one day it ceased to be a talisman for remembering his grandparents, and became a real tool.
He was in his senior year, and was at the local mall riding up an esculator. A sudden scream of fear and pain sounded from above and people were yelling for someone to hit the emergency stop button on the bottom of the moving stairway. It jerked to a halt, but the screams still came from above.
Scott pushed people aside in his way to get to the top and help however he could. There, he found a group of young women from his school, and one of them had the laces of an athletic shoe that had become untied, tanged in the folding stair of the esculator. The mechanisim had dawn in the laces tight, and the shoe was jammed partly into the half folded stair trapping the foot in a painful vice grip.
In a second, Scott had reached into his pocket and the old peanut was out cutting at the laces down the length of the shoes opening. This allowed the trapped girl to free her foot from the vice. She looked up at Scott and expressed her gratitude. Scott was struck by the pretty girl with the long brown hair and big brown eyes.
"I, uh, would you, uh, like to get a cup of coffee?" he stuttered.
"Coffee? Heck, you just saved my foot, I should buy you lunch!" The young women replied.
"Okay, deal."
The young woman looked at her shoe still wedged in the stair, and Scott cut the last laces that held it, and pulled and wiggled, and it came free. With no laces left it was not wearable, but Scott had learned from his granddad well.
"Let me have your other shoe." he said.
The woman removed her other shoe and Scott took out the lace and cut it in half, and relaced both shoes in the middle eyelets.
"There, that will do till you get new laces."
'You're pretty handy with that knife! I'm impressed."
Her name was Deborah, Debs to her friends. Scott and Debs had lunch. Then they had dinner. A year later, after graduation, they got married.
Scott became a junior partner in a Veterinary practice, and time found him and Debs having the home in suburbia, and in a little more time two children. They enjoyed thier life, taking the kids walking in the woods, And Scott taught his son to shoot at cans with the old Winchester .22 rifle. The old peanut was used to teach his son to handle a knife safely. One day Debs told him it was time to retire the old peanut.
"What do you mean retire it? I love that knife! It's not only part of me now, but it's my memory of my grandfolks. "
"That's why you're going to retire it. It's past being a knife, but now it's part of your family's story." she told him pointing to a silver framed photogragh of Hank and Molly on the shelf. "And with that picture is where it belongs. That's why I had Uncle Mike make this"
She showed him a thin flat piece of stainless steel that had one edge bent over in a 90 degree lip. Going over to the picture of his grandparents, she slid the lip of the metal down in between the glass front of the photo and the silver frame. It made a little shelf right on the bottom of the picture frame just big enough for one well worn Case peanut. Debs held out her hand.
"Give me your knife."
Scott handed her the peanut, and Debs put it on the little shelf on the bottom of the photo. It looked at home there with the photo of Hank and Molly.
"Okay, maybe someday I'll put it there, but I'm still going to carry it for now. My pocket won't feel the same without it" Scott told her."
"You pocket is going to be fine." she told him, as she dug into her purse. taking out a slim box she handed it to him. "Happy early birthday!"
It was a brand new Case chestnut bone peanut in CV.
Scott looked at his wife in shock.
"Where did you get this?" he asked.
"Over at the knife shop in the mall. The guy there said it was as close to the old one that thay had. Even had the old carbon steel blades you like. That Hank liked. Look Scott, that old knife has transended being a pocket knife. It's a link to some people you loved very much. How are you going to feel if it gets lost or something. Or you keep using it till it's all used up and nothing is left for your son, Hank? The kids love the story of how we met over that knife."
Scott was quiet for a bit, then agreed. Hank's old peanut was put on the little shelf on the picture frame, and the new chestnut bone CV went into his pocket.
In time the new peanut became as much a personel treasure as the old one. It cut open alot of mail, boxes of vet suppies, and even did emergency surgey on a large boxer. One day while going to the beach with his family, there was a bad car accident on the road in front of them. One car struck by another was shoved off the road and into a ditch, overturning. Black smoke started drifting up from the overturned car. Without hesitating, Scott ran down into the ditch and started to make his way into the overturned wreck. He yelled back at Debs to get his bag. He always traveled wiith a medical bag in the trunk.
Laying inside the now burning wreck, he got both people cut out of thier seat belts with the little peanut. Outside he got first aid going before the EMT's got there. The people who witnessed it called him a hero, but he said he was just doing what anyone would have. His son asked to handle his pocket knife. Scott let him hold the peanut for a while, and told him it was just a tool to be used for things that need to be cut.
"When will I get a knife, dad?" young Hank asked.
"Oh, I expect it may be one of these days soon. How old are you now?"
I'm 7, you know that! I'm gonna be 8 by the end of the summer. "
"I'll give it some thought, okay?"
A few weeks later, at home, Debs came in with two glasses of wine and handed one to her husband as she sat down on the sofa next to him.
"Hank was admiring the old knife again today." she pointed at Hank's old peanut on the pictures shelf. "He needs to have one of his own."
"I know. Next birthday I'm going to get him one." said Scott.
"What kind are you going to get him"
Scott reached in his pocket and took out the peanut and looked at his wife.
"Is there any doubt?" he asked, then gestured toward the picture, "I own them that."
And so it came to pass, that another young man named Hank carried a peanut. Like his father, and before that his great grandfather before them. And he would use it well, because he would remember his father quoting his granddad; "It doesn't have to be big, just sharp."
Being somewhat thrifty by nature, he was not really one to spend money on himself. But this day his wife had surprised him with a new pocket knife. She had good naturedly scolded him about the old knife with the missing scale and blades worn skinny by years of sharpening. This night he had a brand new Case peanut. It was a far nicer pocket knife than he'd have bought himself, and he was deeply touched by his wife's generosity. The little pocket knife became a personal treasure to him. Like his old knife, it was an extension of his index finger. He kept the knife sharp by stropping it every night so's not to have to sharpen it as often.
At Christmas time and father's day, he'd slowly and carefully use the little peanut to open gifts by slitting along just where the clear Scotch tape was. No brain surgeon used more care than Hank Parker with his little bone handle peanut. His kids would watch in tormented impatience as Hank slowly removed the gift wrap from whatever he was given, in one intact piece, instead of ripping it open. He'd hand the gift paper to his wife Molly to save.
"You kids never had to live through the depression." He'd tell them kindly.
Hank and Molly had a good life. Hank had a good job at the plant in town, and Molly did alot of work at the church. They raised thier children, and then came grandkids. Old Hank took great pleasure in teaching his grandson to whittle with the now older peanut. Then came the shooting lessons with his old Winchester model 67 .22 rifle. Many a soup can met it's doom at the hands of Hank, and his grandson Scott. And a few marauding rabits that tried to raid the garden ended up in a pot. Hank and Molly loved thier garden, and spent many an evening weeding, and caring for the produce they used in their dining.
But no paradise is forever.
One day in his retirement, Hank was working in the garden and the tightness came in his chest. He stopped for a moment to get his breath, and the pain shot down his left arm. Molly dialed the rescue squad down the road and Hank was at the local hospital in minutes. But it was not to be. A shocked Molly was handed a manilla envelope of Hank's personel affects that had been in his pockets. Later at home, she dumped the contents out on the dresser and looked at them. A comb, a bandana, his wallet, and the little red bone handle Case knife. Molly picked it up and held it to her lips, wondering if any vestige of Hank was still there.
In time Molly went on with her life as we all do from grief, and she kept the little peanut close to her. It was always in the pocket of the Cardigan sweater she wore, and she used it often. Once at church, she was opening a box of candles and Sister Marie came over to her and asked if she was okay. Molly has sliced through the tape holding the box of candles shut, and as she closed the peanut, she very briefly closed her hand around it and held it for a moment and thought of Hank.
"Of course I'm okay Sister. I was just remembering my husband. He carried this pocket knife for thirty years. Now I carry it to have a bit of him close to me."
Sister Marie nodded and walked away. Later she voiced concern to the priest. Father Hogan shrugged, and said if that helps her deal with her loss, so be it.
The best time for Molly was when the grandson came to visit. Scott had gown into a tall teenager now. She and Scott would work on the garden, and one summer Scott fenced it all in with chicken wire so the rabbits couldn't get to it. Molly handed him the little peanut to sharpen the stakes that he was driving into the ground. Scott looked at the little knife.
"I miss him Grandma."
"As do I Scott." the elderly lady replied.
Later as they sat on the porch and had iced tea, Molly told him she wanted the Case to go to him.
"Nothing is going to happen to you, grandma, you're going to be around a long time yet. Don't talk like that. he said.
"No, I'm an old lady now, and I just want you to understand that I want you and nobody else to have Hank's knife and the .22 rifle in the bedroom closet." I know that Hank would want it that way." said Molly.
A few years later, time took it's inevitable course, and Scott was grief sticken. He'd been close to both his grandparents, and now both were gone. A few days after the funeral, his father came to him with a rifle case and the Case pocket knife. Scott had become the keeper of Hank's rifle and pocket knife.
The peanut went into Scott's pocket, and went everplace with him. He knew he'd be in trouble in school over a knife, but he didn't care. He kept it out of sight, and time and again he'd slide his hand into his pocket and feel the smooth worn bone and think of his grandparents.
The teenager beccame a young man off to college. He'd shown a strong love of helping animals, and he had deceided to become a Veterinarian. Off at college he studied, partied, and set about making the rest of his life. The little worn peanut still rode in his pocket everyday. Then one day it ceased to be a talisman for remembering his grandparents, and became a real tool.
He was in his senior year, and was at the local mall riding up an esculator. A sudden scream of fear and pain sounded from above and people were yelling for someone to hit the emergency stop button on the bottom of the moving stairway. It jerked to a halt, but the screams still came from above.
Scott pushed people aside in his way to get to the top and help however he could. There, he found a group of young women from his school, and one of them had the laces of an athletic shoe that had become untied, tanged in the folding stair of the esculator. The mechanisim had dawn in the laces tight, and the shoe was jammed partly into the half folded stair trapping the foot in a painful vice grip.
In a second, Scott had reached into his pocket and the old peanut was out cutting at the laces down the length of the shoes opening. This allowed the trapped girl to free her foot from the vice. She looked up at Scott and expressed her gratitude. Scott was struck by the pretty girl with the long brown hair and big brown eyes.
"I, uh, would you, uh, like to get a cup of coffee?" he stuttered.
"Coffee? Heck, you just saved my foot, I should buy you lunch!" The young women replied.
"Okay, deal."
The young woman looked at her shoe still wedged in the stair, and Scott cut the last laces that held it, and pulled and wiggled, and it came free. With no laces left it was not wearable, but Scott had learned from his granddad well.
"Let me have your other shoe." he said.
The woman removed her other shoe and Scott took out the lace and cut it in half, and relaced both shoes in the middle eyelets.
"There, that will do till you get new laces."
'You're pretty handy with that knife! I'm impressed."
Her name was Deborah, Debs to her friends. Scott and Debs had lunch. Then they had dinner. A year later, after graduation, they got married.
Scott became a junior partner in a Veterinary practice, and time found him and Debs having the home in suburbia, and in a little more time two children. They enjoyed thier life, taking the kids walking in the woods, And Scott taught his son to shoot at cans with the old Winchester .22 rifle. The old peanut was used to teach his son to handle a knife safely. One day Debs told him it was time to retire the old peanut.
"What do you mean retire it? I love that knife! It's not only part of me now, but it's my memory of my grandfolks. "
"That's why you're going to retire it. It's past being a knife, but now it's part of your family's story." she told him pointing to a silver framed photogragh of Hank and Molly on the shelf. "And with that picture is where it belongs. That's why I had Uncle Mike make this"
She showed him a thin flat piece of stainless steel that had one edge bent over in a 90 degree lip. Going over to the picture of his grandparents, she slid the lip of the metal down in between the glass front of the photo and the silver frame. It made a little shelf right on the bottom of the picture frame just big enough for one well worn Case peanut. Debs held out her hand.
"Give me your knife."
Scott handed her the peanut, and Debs put it on the little shelf on the bottom of the photo. It looked at home there with the photo of Hank and Molly.
"Okay, maybe someday I'll put it there, but I'm still going to carry it for now. My pocket won't feel the same without it" Scott told her."
"You pocket is going to be fine." she told him, as she dug into her purse. taking out a slim box she handed it to him. "Happy early birthday!"
It was a brand new Case chestnut bone peanut in CV.
Scott looked at his wife in shock.
"Where did you get this?" he asked.
"Over at the knife shop in the mall. The guy there said it was as close to the old one that thay had. Even had the old carbon steel blades you like. That Hank liked. Look Scott, that old knife has transended being a pocket knife. It's a link to some people you loved very much. How are you going to feel if it gets lost or something. Or you keep using it till it's all used up and nothing is left for your son, Hank? The kids love the story of how we met over that knife."
Scott was quiet for a bit, then agreed. Hank's old peanut was put on the little shelf on the picture frame, and the new chestnut bone CV went into his pocket.
In time the new peanut became as much a personel treasure as the old one. It cut open alot of mail, boxes of vet suppies, and even did emergency surgey on a large boxer. One day while going to the beach with his family, there was a bad car accident on the road in front of them. One car struck by another was shoved off the road and into a ditch, overturning. Black smoke started drifting up from the overturned car. Without hesitating, Scott ran down into the ditch and started to make his way into the overturned wreck. He yelled back at Debs to get his bag. He always traveled wiith a medical bag in the trunk.
Laying inside the now burning wreck, he got both people cut out of thier seat belts with the little peanut. Outside he got first aid going before the EMT's got there. The people who witnessed it called him a hero, but he said he was just doing what anyone would have. His son asked to handle his pocket knife. Scott let him hold the peanut for a while, and told him it was just a tool to be used for things that need to be cut.
"When will I get a knife, dad?" young Hank asked.
"Oh, I expect it may be one of these days soon. How old are you now?"
I'm 7, you know that! I'm gonna be 8 by the end of the summer. "
"I'll give it some thought, okay?"
A few weeks later, at home, Debs came in with two glasses of wine and handed one to her husband as she sat down on the sofa next to him.
"Hank was admiring the old knife again today." she pointed at Hank's old peanut on the pictures shelf. "He needs to have one of his own."
"I know. Next birthday I'm going to get him one." said Scott.
"What kind are you going to get him"
Scott reached in his pocket and took out the peanut and looked at his wife.
"Is there any doubt?" he asked, then gestured toward the picture, "I own them that."
And so it came to pass, that another young man named Hank carried a peanut. Like his father, and before that his great grandfather before them. And he would use it well, because he would remember his father quoting his granddad; "It doesn't have to be big, just sharp."
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