ron_m80
Tempered Member
- Joined
- Mar 1, 2009
- Messages
- 8,155
Someone posed a question the other night which made me think a great deal about where in my life history my first knife was from.
I remember my Grandfather. Hard working all day, every day. He woke before the sun. He had the same simple breakfast everyday, and I followed him around everywhere I could to watch him work. In as much as he could tolerate a little one following him around, and reporting back to Grandma about the cigarettes and causing he could and did do liberally out in his yard. He owned a huge wrecking yard, and several pieces of heavy machinery for work. Later he used the heavy machinery to open a gravel pit and retire on a nice large piece of land in the PNW free of scrap metal. In the afternoon he would drink a beer or two like they were the Soda of there day. In the evening he would put on more comfortable shoes, grab a stick, his cigarettes, and go out onto the porch to smoke, and whittle. He carried a simple whittler everywhere (I seem to recall a buck like swayback or Shrade type pocketknife). His work ethic, and those wood creations are some of my most vivid memories of him. Looking back i realized how much I tried to be just like him. My first pocket knife went with me everywhere I went. Everything else that it came with was probably played to destruction in a relatively short time, all but for that knife. My constant pocket companion when I was around Grandpa.
There it is down there circled in Blue as best I could with MS Paint. I might be a bit young compared to many of the folks here, however I have been a knife guy for longer than even I remembered it seems.
I enjoyed the memory I happened to stumble upon and thought I would share it.
EDIT: Oh, I am Ron M. I haven't made a great deal of posts here in the Traditional Forum, so I guess I should go ahead and mention that I realize some folks won't know who the heck I am.
I remember my Grandfather. Hard working all day, every day. He woke before the sun. He had the same simple breakfast everyday, and I followed him around everywhere I could to watch him work. In as much as he could tolerate a little one following him around, and reporting back to Grandma about the cigarettes and causing he could and did do liberally out in his yard. He owned a huge wrecking yard, and several pieces of heavy machinery for work. Later he used the heavy machinery to open a gravel pit and retire on a nice large piece of land in the PNW free of scrap metal. In the afternoon he would drink a beer or two like they were the Soda of there day. In the evening he would put on more comfortable shoes, grab a stick, his cigarettes, and go out onto the porch to smoke, and whittle. He carried a simple whittler everywhere (I seem to recall a buck like swayback or Shrade type pocketknife). His work ethic, and those wood creations are some of my most vivid memories of him. Looking back i realized how much I tried to be just like him. My first pocket knife went with me everywhere I went. Everything else that it came with was probably played to destruction in a relatively short time, all but for that knife. My constant pocket companion when I was around Grandpa.
There it is down there circled in Blue as best I could with MS Paint. I might be a bit young compared to many of the folks here, however I have been a knife guy for longer than even I remembered it seems.
I enjoyed the memory I happened to stumble upon and thought I would share it.
EDIT: Oh, I am Ron M. I haven't made a great deal of posts here in the Traditional Forum, so I guess I should go ahead and mention that I realize some folks won't know who the heck I am.
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