- Joined
- Sep 19, 2001
- Messages
- 33
Strains of the hallelujah chorus resound in my head.
I have always known Emerson knives to be among an elite few... perhaps even at the very top of that short list. Now I can remove the perhaps from that statement without any remaining doubt.
I've long been an admirer of knives in general. Always tried to keep an occasional eye on the moving and shaking of the knife world. But I only occasionally found myself flush enough to actually buy those knives that really pulled at my heart strings. Then and now I've always considered myself more as a knife user than a knife collector. Though I certainly find my heart fluttering when I contemplate the perfect custom, in the end if a knife isn't tough and practical I rarely if ever buy it.
So... back to the sweet angels singing inside my head. Today I received my first Emerson Commander. The lady in the ugly brown uniform came to my door, handed me a small box with none of the reverance that I alone knew it deserved. Quickly I scribbled something that only barely resembled my signature, and shut the door perhaps a bit too abruptly. I then walked swiftly to the kitchen, pulled a knife from the drawer (I was still in my PJ's so alas no more worthy knife was available) an carefully slit the tape that separated me from my precious prize.
I slowly dug through the styrofoam peanuts and removed the only slightly crushed Emerson box. I held it reverently in both my palms, having let the outer box drop unceremoniously to the floor spilling its foam contents everywhere. I walked slowly back to the living room and sat gently on the edge of the sofa, lovingly placing the box down on the coffe table. I wanted to savor this longed for moment, wanted to drag it out so that I could forever remember it. At the same time a small nagging voice sounded in my left ear, "What if it isn't as wonderful as you're building it up to be?"
Well I quickly silencedthat voice by reminding myself of the solid weight of the box, I've always loved my knives to have a good heft to them, and though I've been fooled by this from time to time, usually if the weight is good, the knife ends up being pretty good.
But pretty good doesn't begin to explain THIS knife. I slowly opened the crushed end of the box, and slipped the plastic wrapped knife out of it. I removed the outer baggie, and then the inner baggie. I set the knife down on the table, quickly reading the inclosed papers, intentionally drawing things out.
And then....
I let my eyes fix on my new knife.
I scanned every milimeter of it.
Mentally carressed its lines.
And then I picked it up and thumbed it open. hallelujah!
I ran my sensitive fingertips down it's silky spine and flat face. I carefully let my thumb test it's sharpness, very sharp (I later confirmed this when I stupidly left the tip of my thumb in the way of the serrations as I closed the knife DOH!) I brought the knife to my nose and inhaled its glorious metallic scent. I thumbed it open and closed several times and decided it was time for the main attraction.
I carressed the hooked wave on the spine and then slipped it into my pocket. I was shaking slightly as I prepared to "wave" my new knife for the first time. I fearfully expected to not fully deploy it the first time. I expected for some reason to have to practice several times to get it right. I was wrong! It exploded from my pocket fully open. It locked with a firm click that announced its eagerness to chew through anything I fed it. I was weak in the knees with utter joy!!!
Since that blissful joyous moment I have been waving my knife nearly non-stop. I love this knife. I would marry this knife! It's deep recurve is undeniably sensual. It's ergonamic handle melds to my hand like it was born there. Even the clip fits perfectly in my hand pretty much no matter what grip I use.
Did I mention I love this knife??!!!???
I have always known Emerson knives to be among an elite few... perhaps even at the very top of that short list. Now I can remove the perhaps from that statement without any remaining doubt.
I've long been an admirer of knives in general. Always tried to keep an occasional eye on the moving and shaking of the knife world. But I only occasionally found myself flush enough to actually buy those knives that really pulled at my heart strings. Then and now I've always considered myself more as a knife user than a knife collector. Though I certainly find my heart fluttering when I contemplate the perfect custom, in the end if a knife isn't tough and practical I rarely if ever buy it.
So... back to the sweet angels singing inside my head. Today I received my first Emerson Commander. The lady in the ugly brown uniform came to my door, handed me a small box with none of the reverance that I alone knew it deserved. Quickly I scribbled something that only barely resembled my signature, and shut the door perhaps a bit too abruptly. I then walked swiftly to the kitchen, pulled a knife from the drawer (I was still in my PJ's so alas no more worthy knife was available) an carefully slit the tape that separated me from my precious prize.
I slowly dug through the styrofoam peanuts and removed the only slightly crushed Emerson box. I held it reverently in both my palms, having let the outer box drop unceremoniously to the floor spilling its foam contents everywhere. I walked slowly back to the living room and sat gently on the edge of the sofa, lovingly placing the box down on the coffe table. I wanted to savor this longed for moment, wanted to drag it out so that I could forever remember it. At the same time a small nagging voice sounded in my left ear, "What if it isn't as wonderful as you're building it up to be?"
Well I quickly silencedthat voice by reminding myself of the solid weight of the box, I've always loved my knives to have a good heft to them, and though I've been fooled by this from time to time, usually if the weight is good, the knife ends up being pretty good.
But pretty good doesn't begin to explain THIS knife. I slowly opened the crushed end of the box, and slipped the plastic wrapped knife out of it. I removed the outer baggie, and then the inner baggie. I set the knife down on the table, quickly reading the inclosed papers, intentionally drawing things out.
And then....
I let my eyes fix on my new knife.
I scanned every milimeter of it.
Mentally carressed its lines.
And then I picked it up and thumbed it open. hallelujah!
I ran my sensitive fingertips down it's silky spine and flat face. I carefully let my thumb test it's sharpness, very sharp (I later confirmed this when I stupidly left the tip of my thumb in the way of the serrations as I closed the knife DOH!) I brought the knife to my nose and inhaled its glorious metallic scent. I thumbed it open and closed several times and decided it was time for the main attraction.
I carressed the hooked wave on the spine and then slipped it into my pocket. I was shaking slightly as I prepared to "wave" my new knife for the first time. I fearfully expected to not fully deploy it the first time. I expected for some reason to have to practice several times to get it right. I was wrong! It exploded from my pocket fully open. It locked with a firm click that announced its eagerness to chew through anything I fed it. I was weak in the knees with utter joy!!!
Since that blissful joyous moment I have been waving my knife nearly non-stop. I love this knife. I would marry this knife! It's deep recurve is undeniably sensual. It's ergonamic handle melds to my hand like it was born there. Even the clip fits perfectly in my hand pretty much no matter what grip I use.
Did I mention I love this knife??!!!???
Would have loved to compare them myself. Ah... who am I kidding... I just want to own every Emerson I can get my greedy little paws on! 