In the past five months plus that I've been using the peanut as an edc pocket knife, it's been a learning experience as well as a sort awakening in what we don't need to get by. Being a blue collar working man my whole life, I've needed a pocket knife almost everyday in both the machine shop I worked in, or the construction sites I was on while in the army engineers. Cutting open boxes of parts to be modified, cutting marline, opening bags of cement, whittling survey stakes, cutting two sided tape for vise jaws, whatever. A sharp cutting tool was a needed item. Not to mention growing up in an era where if a man had pants on, there was a pocket knife in there some place. Usually a Buck 301 stockman.
So many times in my youth, I'd see the old guys with the pen knife, and I'd wonder why they were carrying such a tiny little joke of a knife. The joke was on me. Only I had to live long enough to become an old man myself, to find out what they had found out. It's a matter of what we don't need. Or, that there is a very large gap between perception and reality. The fantacies of youth and the real world.
Now that I'm a retired social security senior citizen, I have more recreation time on my hands than in my whole life. Fishing, canoeing, camping, woods rambling, shooting, and working around the house supporting the better half in her gardening ambitions. And I have more need of a sharp cutting tool in my pocket than ever before. Yet, I am enjoying my leasure time these days with a 2 inch bladed pocket knife bearing the brunt of the cutting jobs that come up. I find that the humble little Case peanut does most all I need of a pocket knife. It's been a lesson in life.
I watched my father for years get by very well with his little Case peanut, and wondered how he did it. I was too young back then to really appreciate how he did it. Finesse over brawn. The way of the surgeon over the butcher. If ever there was a man who was a teacher of real life, my dad was him. I never knew the man to engage in ego in any matter except for his car. He loved that big Pontiac Star Chief with the strait 8 engine. Yet his choice of guns and knives were the Colt Woodsman .22 auto and the Case peanut. He loved camping, and took the family out many times. He loved to fish, hike, and revered nature, yet didn't hunt. A two inch blade seemed to be all he really needed.
Many years later, after he had passed away, I had his little Case sitting on top of my dresser. About this same time, I was observing my better half torturing a Victorinox Classic. I never expected the tiny thing to last her more than a week or two at most. Her company got a bunch of them embossed with their logo, and Karen brought one home for me to see. Only a woman could abuse a piece of gear in a way that makes a man cringe with horror. But much to my huge surprise, the tiny little classic didn't break, but kept on doing what ever job she put it to. In time, impressed with it's ability to stand up to the abuse heaped on it. I put one on my keyring to experiment. What I found out is that we don't really need what we think we need. Our wants and needs get mixed up sometimes.
It's okay to collect something because you like it, whatever "it" is, but be wary of getting tho the point of thinking that your really need it. Some people collect stamps, others collect coins. Some us collect knives. To me and my way of thinking, at least knives have a real use. It's awfully hard to open a package with a stamp, or slice up your dinner with a coin. But how much knife do we really need in our modern suburban life? Are we going to be skinning a buffalo in the office cubicle, or be attacked by wild injuns while waiting for the commuter train?
Times are changing, no matter if we like it or not. Political correctness is here to stay, and we have to live with it. Also like it or not, we are the tiny, maybe 1% minority of society. The knife freaks. The rest of society already looks a bit funny at us, so in effect we all are the ambassadors of our obsession. How much knife do we really need in our daily walking around suburbia lives? And when do we practice a little restraint and taste?
Carl.
So many times in my youth, I'd see the old guys with the pen knife, and I'd wonder why they were carrying such a tiny little joke of a knife. The joke was on me. Only I had to live long enough to become an old man myself, to find out what they had found out. It's a matter of what we don't need. Or, that there is a very large gap between perception and reality. The fantacies of youth and the real world.
Now that I'm a retired social security senior citizen, I have more recreation time on my hands than in my whole life. Fishing, canoeing, camping, woods rambling, shooting, and working around the house supporting the better half in her gardening ambitions. And I have more need of a sharp cutting tool in my pocket than ever before. Yet, I am enjoying my leasure time these days with a 2 inch bladed pocket knife bearing the brunt of the cutting jobs that come up. I find that the humble little Case peanut does most all I need of a pocket knife. It's been a lesson in life.
I watched my father for years get by very well with his little Case peanut, and wondered how he did it. I was too young back then to really appreciate how he did it. Finesse over brawn. The way of the surgeon over the butcher. If ever there was a man who was a teacher of real life, my dad was him. I never knew the man to engage in ego in any matter except for his car. He loved that big Pontiac Star Chief with the strait 8 engine. Yet his choice of guns and knives were the Colt Woodsman .22 auto and the Case peanut. He loved camping, and took the family out many times. He loved to fish, hike, and revered nature, yet didn't hunt. A two inch blade seemed to be all he really needed.
Many years later, after he had passed away, I had his little Case sitting on top of my dresser. About this same time, I was observing my better half torturing a Victorinox Classic. I never expected the tiny thing to last her more than a week or two at most. Her company got a bunch of them embossed with their logo, and Karen brought one home for me to see. Only a woman could abuse a piece of gear in a way that makes a man cringe with horror. But much to my huge surprise, the tiny little classic didn't break, but kept on doing what ever job she put it to. In time, impressed with it's ability to stand up to the abuse heaped on it. I put one on my keyring to experiment. What I found out is that we don't really need what we think we need. Our wants and needs get mixed up sometimes.
It's okay to collect something because you like it, whatever "it" is, but be wary of getting tho the point of thinking that your really need it. Some people collect stamps, others collect coins. Some us collect knives. To me and my way of thinking, at least knives have a real use. It's awfully hard to open a package with a stamp, or slice up your dinner with a coin. But how much knife do we really need in our modern suburban life? Are we going to be skinning a buffalo in the office cubicle, or be attacked by wild injuns while waiting for the commuter train?
Times are changing, no matter if we like it or not. Political correctness is here to stay, and we have to live with it. Also like it or not, we are the tiny, maybe 1% minority of society. The knife freaks. The rest of society already looks a bit funny at us, so in effect we all are the ambassadors of our obsession. How much knife do we really need in our daily walking around suburbia lives? And when do we practice a little restraint and taste?
Carl.
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