Knives that remind you of someone you lost.

Jeff Clark

Jeff Clark

Joined
Apr 27, 1999
Messages
6,117
This is my 5,000 post, so I thought I'd pick a topic with some sentimental value. I have been a knife knut an awful long time so I have frequently received knives as gifts. There is a special poignancy when I go through my collection and remember the people who liked me and trusted me enough to give me a big knife before I was even old enough to drive.

I'll just mention one that brings a kind face back to mind. Her name was Alda, and she and her husband owned Kingston House Cutlery in Pasadena. I hung around the shop, looking at knives, talking, and occasionally buying knives. By the time I was 15 I was sort of the store throwing knife tester. If somebody sold her a throwing knife I would buy one and try it or she would give me one to try. I sure broke a lot of those hokey knives. I didn't have much money and she was extremely generous to me.

That year, 1964, the hot new TV show for weapon nuts was, "The Man From Uncle", starring Robert Vaughn as Napoleon Solo. They had these great spy gadgets (I wanted one of those combo guns awfully bad). I must have mentioned that interest to Alda because she gave me a special present. It seemed that Robert Vaughn had just completed an engagement at the Pasadena Playhouse starring in the lead role of Hamlet. As part of his costume the playhouse had asked Kingston House if they could borrow an old fashioned looking dagger. She had lent them a fairly common German dagger with a cast aluminum handle with a skull on the end. After the engagement the playhouse returned the dagger. Alda gave it to me.

It was very few years later that Alda suddenly died. I think that I was still in my teens. I remember going into the shop and asking where she was. Her sister told me that she had died from a sudden heart attack. It was my biggest loss until my mother died a few years later.

So there it sits in my knife collection, a knife that I probably wouldn't even have bought as a 15-year-old, but one that I will keep till I die. Thank you Alda, I miss your company.

So does anybody else have gift knife with special memories?
 
What a great idea for a milestone 5,000th post.

I lost my father when i was just shy of 10 in 1977, he left behind for me 3 knives that he used at work and on our family farm.

The top one is a Case 6347HP, 64-69' that he carried everyday for chores around the farm.
The middle one is a Queen #19 Trapper that came out for skinning and butchering either farm animals or game that he hunted.
The bottom one is a Camillus TL-29, that he used at work for GTE, where he worked from 1957-1977 after leaving the Air Force. He was in the communications part of the Air Force from 1953-1957, and it's possible this one was issued to him, but I have not been able to verify that.

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That old Case at the top had almost mythical abilities to me as a small child, getting to "whittle with dad's knife" was a big deal. Those times he would let me sit at his feet, hacking away on a stick with it while he talked farming with other men from our area, even the time I took off the end of my thumb with it is a fond memory! :D

Pocketknives to this day are still a link to him in my mind.
 
Funny you should bring this up. My best friend now deceased about 2 years ago after his second round of chemo at Xmas gave me a HD knife by UC I think. It is the Fred Carter design. I will never use it nor sell it. It is up in my sock drawer next to my big mouth .45 in its box. I value that knife more than any other I have bought, found, begged, borrowed or stole. Well not stole but you get my drift. Over the last couple of years of his life I gave him a couple of EKI's that I had.

Now you have to understand I grew up across the street from this fella in my home town. We played ball together, camped, hunted, fished, rode scoots, and generally just terrorized in a good way mind you the southern tier of NYS for a goodly portion of our teens through our mid 30's. We lived what he called it a boys life. I can remember letting him take my scoot for a summer 3 years ago and just letting him ride it for a goodly portion of it. What a site. Its like he never even missed a beat after not riding for years. Anyways I got the knife he gave me, his wife still has the knives I gave him and my world is good. keepem sharp
 
When I dig them out, I'll post a picture. I have a couple from my Dad. He died in 2002 at 83, an old retired soldier from the Army. He fought on Omaha beach in Normandy, and throughout the European Theater. Was in Korea and Vietnam also, non-combatant, but had 2 choppers shot out from under him in Vietnam.

When he and my Mom died (in 2005), my sisters and I had the unpleasant task of dividing everything up. Being the knife knut, they let me have them all. I have his gentleman's knife, a very slim and nice aluminum sided pen knife, his issue Camillus (looks like a large Barlow or Boy Scout knife), although it has several blades and bottle openers, and his letter opener that is in the form of a miniature samurai sword, a momento from Okinawa. Every time I look at them, he lives on in my memories, all good ones.
 
My Uncle, who was more of a dad to me than my real dad. He taught me how to ride a horse, archery, how to shoot both rifles and handguns. Which helped later after I joined the service. I competed in matches and earned both Distinguished rifle and Pistol shot badges.
When I was about 14 he gave me his Buck 110, and every time I handle it I think of him. He was a Deputy Sheriff. He was shot and killed shortly after in the line of duty. I later learned he also earned the Silver Star, and recieved a field commision to Captain while serving in Vietnam. He was a true hero, from teaching me to shoot a bow and arrow, to serving his 3 tours vietnam. That's what I'm reminded of every time I handle that knife. I try to live up to to that level, although I think It's Impossible.
 
My father was a Drill Sergeant in the Army. I hadn't seen much of him from my childhood, but he was a hunter and was immersed in all things weaponry, it seemed. He had a Buck 110 that he kept sharp, and which always impressed me as a child. I always wanted one of my own. He died a few years later.

I discovered the very same Buck 110 in the kitchen drawer of my family's house, albeit with a worn and dull blade from years of use. It reminds me of him every time I see it.
 
my dads german SA dagger he got off a dead german in WW2 and brought back with him, reminds me of my dad every time i look at it, lost him in '93, and my wifes MT mini SOCOM elite she carried all the time, lost her in '06.
 
Mine is actually one I gave as a gift and then got back later.

Back in the early or mid- 1990s when the Gerber multi-tools (what were they called) were first introduced, I bought one for my father for Christmas. He either carried a Barlow or Case every day and thought he'd like something "fancier" and with more functionality.

My dad passed away in 2000 and it was one of the very few items that I took away from the house. I found it in his sock drawer, still in the box. I took it out and it had never been used! I shoulda known that that newfangled contraption wouldn't bump his old slipjoints out of his pocket.
 
Last year a friend and I exchanged mementos in a fairly intentional manner. We had been out of touch for around 30 years. After my heart attack I started tracking down old friends, but nobody knew how to reach Flash Carter. They did said that he had a stroke some years ago. When I found him he was on crutches. He had been on crutches for about 22 years.

He is an old knife buddy who had shown me unconventional ways to sharpen knives when I was a teenager. He went on to be a shop teacher and started making his own knives. All that ended at age 33 when he had a sudden stroke while playing handball. When we met after all these years he gave me one of his few remaining handmade knives. I gave him a classic set of Gerber tool steel carving knives from the early 1970s. No telling how long either of us will last, but when the first one goes the other will have a memento.
 
As I type this a priceless, cheap little knife is lying by my keyboard.

Purchased in 1950, it was given to me on my fourth birthday! According to my mother, I was allowed to carry it around unsupervised! A different place and time, a country kid, with freedom that today's kids can only dream of. I never hurt myself or anyone else with it.

It was "Made in Japan" not long after WWII when made in Japan meant "junk". It is stamped sheet metal, about 5 1/2 inches overall, saber ground to a rather dull edge, but with an acute point. Imitation stag handles of plastic, aluminum bolsters, and a compass in the handle (which still is functional, by the way.)

It was replaced when I was no more than six with a small stockman folder, so since the age of four I have never been without a knife on my person or close at hand.

Thank God for parents who understood boys, who raised their's to act responsibly, who trusted him to roam at will at age ten with a single shot Iver Johnson 12 gauge and a dog, and for a rural community who saw all of this as a normal part of being male.

I feel so sorry for kids today.
 
LIke a lot of you, for me it's knives that belonged to men in my family, as well as a couple friends I've lost. It used to make me sad feeling that I lost too many close people, too young. Now I feel like I live on for all of them, and they live within me. Using one of these treasured knives seems to bring their spirits and fond memories back to life.

IMO there can be a lot more to a knife than just a tool or a weapon. Sometimes it's as though they carry a bit of the man that owned and used them.
 
For me it one that I gave to my dad when he retired and got back when he died. Over the years he had always carried a pocket knife, normally they were cheap company give aways that never stayed sharp (I had the job of sharpeneing tehem whenever we were together). When he retired I had small lockback made for him by a maker I liked. He carried it for 5 years until Prostate Cancer did him in. Now I have it back, I don't carry it much, but I take it out , look at it, sharpenen it (seem like a waste, but that is what I did for all his knives) all the time. Some day I will pass it down, along with others to my kids, hopefully they will remember me as foundly as I remember my dad. Steven
 
My mother gave me my first Buck 110 for Xmas many years ago. That knife is now retired to a place of honor and won't be used again for fear of lose.
 
While I also bought knives at Kingston House during the 60's, I did not visit often enough to know anyone there. A good trip to Pasadena for me as a youngster included stops at Vroman's on Colorado and a stop at Kingston House in the Arcade accross the street to drool.

The knife that reminds me of another person most is the Swiss Army style knife my dad bought in Germany in ~1936. It was pretty much the only knife he ever carried. It came to me after his death and is a treasure to me.
 
It's a little, no-name folder with the worst liner lock you have ever seen, no edge to speak of, and cheap as hell thumbstud screwed into one side so much that the threads are visible coming out the other side!! The worst knife by far that I own, but it was given to me by "Lil' Pete", one of the oldest and most dependable customers I've ever had managing the local tavern where I live. He spent most of his life drinking Olympia and shooting at ducks, and he knew that I was a big knife collector. Just a couple of months before he passed away from cancer earlier this year, he handed it to me and said "somethin' fer your collection." I still miss him, and usually get a touch misty when I see that knife on my tool bench.
 
Here's a crude scan of the dagger that Alda gave to me. It is really pretty sturdy. It has a carbon steel blade that is 1/4-inch thick at the thickest part of the spine.
 

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I have Dad's knife, a little Peanut pattern much like those Case makes still. I lost Dad in 1990, but I'll always have his knife, and his dad's knife, too. Dad carried that little Peanut when he waded ashore on D-Day with the other American soldiers. He carried it all across Europe, the Mediterranean region, and North Africa, and finally back home with him. Less than ten years later he taught me to play mumblypeg with his knife on the soft, green, mossy ground under a big maple tree in our yard in Tennessee.
 
I bought a Bob Terzuola TTF-3 (plain titanium scales)in 1988 from Nashoba Valley. It has been my EDC (with a smaller folder in my pocket) ever since except for 3 days when I overnited it back to Bob & he tuned,etc & sent it back several years ago. Been thru hell & back. My son was born in 1988 & he started riding with me (in a childseat) at about 20 months of age in my Pete/cattle hauling rig till he started school. Then at 17 him I let go to work with me in a new venture as he just couldn't handle high school, I needed him etc. Point being we were as close as a father & son could be. He of course was familiar with dad's knife & for his 17th birthday I gave him a TTF-3 of his own (with carbon fiber scales) He was of course as proud as he could be both of the knife & the fact I gave it to him. He was killed in a car crash at the age of 18 yrs/3months on May 22, 2006. Words cannot describe my pain. As a matter of fact I registered here several years ago, only started coming back in the last month & this is the 1st time I've posted since I lost him. It's hard to imagine a good day but I carry his knife in my left pocket & mine in my right & it does give me a smile when I think back.
 
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