Edge Reflections...
Hello Sharpeners,
In keeping with the thread title, I offer up a long-winded mad rambling.
Last night, as I was just beginning to make some breakfast for dinner for the wife and I, my cell phone rang. I didn't recognize the number but decided to answer it. I expected to hear a recorded woman's voice saying something about a recent cruise I (didn't) took or some urgent warning about my credit or some such. But no. When you answer the phone and the voice on the other end essentially says, "I'm Officer Smith with the PD...", nothing good is going to follow.
Long story a smidge shorter, my large wooden shed out back had been broken into. I say shed but it is somewhere between a large shed and small garage. I built it and it has heavy double doors that face out into the alley. I knew when I built it that it would be tempting, so I secured the doors to the floor and frame in various ways. It was fine for many years but last night, some needle junkies or meth heads decided they really wanted to get into my shed. It was no easy task but they managed it. It's winter up here and getting dark pretty early and they went to work as soon as it was. Likely cased the place for a couple days before hand. In the end, they got thwarted by an attentive neighbor, but they left a gaping hole in the cold night with my tools and such exposed and my motorcycle dumped a couple blocks away. Neat.
Go to where my bike is, battery was already dead but now the ignition is trashed too... Wait for the cop to show up, knowing there's nothing he can do, but engaging in the obligatory exchange. And then my son in law shows up. My wife called him. My son in law is an awesome kid and I was so glad to see him. I could use some help.
Anyway, bike got pushed back and we boarded up the shed well enough they'll likely need a reciprocating saw to get in now. Yes, they do that.
When we were finished and went inside, I found my very pregnant daughter in the house and making her and her mom the breakfast for dinner I never got to finish.
Anyway, er, again... Tonight I remembered coming across my old Buck 102 Woodsman a while back. It was the first knife I ever bought with my own money. A long time ago. I was nine or ten I think. I have no idea how many birds and fish that knife has been through but it's seen service from southern Idaho to Alaska. And oh how I hammered that knife back in the day trying to learn to sharpen! The bevel still mocks me with uneven spots all along it. Somewhere around fifteen years ago when my daughter decided to get into hunting, I gave her my knife. I don't remember why it ended up back here but I do remember her mentioning it a couple times and how much she wanted it back.
Anyway, again, again...Just wanting to de-stress tonight, I went and grabbed the old knife and set down to spend some time on the stones. Not enough to fix all those years of mistakes, but getting it there. I stroked the edge and contemplated it as we do, but my mind was drifting. I thought back on my daughter being footling-breech and premature. How tiny she was! I thought about giving her the knife, and our time hunting and camping. Within the next couple weeks, I'll have a grand daughter. Imagine that.
Tomorrow, I'm going to dig out an old Schrade skinning knife (Sharpfinger?). Me and brother gave it to our oldest brother a gillion years ago when he was into bird hunting. But he let it sit in a plastic bag for years and one day handed it to me all rusted to hell. I countered the rust but never really did much after that. I think I'll see about that edge and give the knife to my son in law.
Perhaps not polished, but edge reflection indeed.