So sorry to hear about your attacka-sciatica, Jack. Back problems are especially hateful, in so many cases there is simply no way to avoid being in pain. I've got some bum parts -- whether due to exceeding their designed operational lifespans or due to a lifestyle following a Hunter S. Thompson-esque philosophy -- but even when they're barkin' loudly I can generally find a way to avoid makin' em angrier. An acute enough back ailment can be excruciating even when breathing. I hope this is nothing more than a temporary stumble, my friend. It's pretty amazing to be doing a GAW while in such pain, but it just speaks to the people here on the porch and you in particular. I think the GAW feels a little extra-special because it is a Preferred Pattern from one of the posters who has regaled us time and time again with the history and mythologies behind some of our favorite knives -- a Real Jack's Lambsfoot kind of GAW. From all of the praise you give it, to have a real lambsfoot from the Real Lambsfoot Master would be a great honor for the eventual winner.
Lots of folks are waxing poetic about their birthplaces, which is great and I enjoy the stories and the photos immensely. Unfortunately, a lot of the photos from my childhood have been lost to the years, and the rest are in "analog" format as the "scan old photos" entry on my personal to-do ages quite ungracefully. I was born and grew up in New York, schooled in Atlanta, and put out to the fields in Florida.
Presently, I live in Fort Lauderdale, a.k.a. Fort Liquordale, a.k.a. the city that loves to hate spring breaker money (but only after years of gobbling it right up). It's a quaint seaside city of about a hundred thousand that serves as the grimiest jewel in the crown that is the Miami metroplex. If you fly to KFLL, you're not in Lauderdale unless you take a taxi a couple minutes north on US1; Uber is right out, as they're not allowed to pick up at the airport. That's fine, because if you don't have business in Ft. Lauderdale you probably don't much care to go there. Lauderdale sprawls. It's a concrete jungle dotted with quadrilaterals of grass here and there in the form of tract housing, cemeteries, parks, and the occasional overgrown empty lot. It is every bit the suburban hellscape an entire generation of screenwriters and TV actors built careers upon. Most of the time spent here is fighting traffic or maneuvering around lost tourists/clueless locals trying to get what you need and get on with life. There's not too much about "the 954" that inspires wonderment. Occasionally, though, somebody gets it right.
If you know where to look, there is a small piece of nature tucked away between three major highways and all kinds of industry. Feeding off the south fork of the New River, this little 'pocket park' keeps nature alive for jaded citizens of the fifth-largest "urbanized area" in the country. There are a couple staked-out nature trails, a collection of favored larval delicacies where occasionally comical numbers of butterflies will gather, and land crabs retreat as heavy-footed humans round corners apace. If you're particularly enterprising, adventurous, and a little rebellious, you can blaze your own trail (though I strongly suggest you learn where
not to tread first) and maybe see some things very few folks living in the urban sprawl have seen. I often visit the park and stroll down the winding paths, or camp out quietly watching as nature resumes its course in the absence of bother and ruckus. I started taking snaps during my last visit but my battery-hungry phone was not long for this world, so by the time I got out on the trails I missed a bunch of good pics.
My phone simply refused to focus on the one leaf I kept telling it to...
This is where butterflies come from!
A couple of those aforementioned crabs peeking out while I waited with my rapidly-dying phone camera (and enjoyed some club soda -- already powerful by hot mid-day in April
).
Half the reason I was deep within the "secret woods", taking pics of my knives -- with a phone that wanted to use its last 5% of power to keep warning me that it only had 5% power... :grumpy:
FLL Tourist Tip: If you do happen to take that cab up US1 into the "real deal Holyfield" city of frights, you might consider stopping at Anthony's Coal Fired for the best slice you can get outside of Brooklyn. The rest of the good spots I'm keepin' for myself.
Feel better, Jack. May your suffering be short and your remedy rapid.
Thanks for the good wishes Duncan, you are generous as always my friend 
:thumbup:
But what if he gets a headache or sprained ankle? 
