Fate. Karma. Lady Luck.
They all have a great deal in what happens in our life. I'm very convinced of that. The choices we make or sometimes have made for us. Who we are and more importantly, what we are sometimes has been determined by luck or fate. What we learned from our fathers, what we experienced in either the planned or unplanned events of our lives. Like what knives we like.
If I had been brought up in a later era or other place my choices my have been very different. Being mostly a city kid with summer time down on Marylands Eastern shore, I grew up with a foot in two different worlds. But pocket knives were a common thread. By age 12 dad had given me a nice scout knife and our scout leader of our troop was an old mud Marine who carried a real Remington scout knife. That set the bar pretty high for us kids, as the scout master, Mr. Van was a Demi God we'd follow to the nether regions if need be.
Down on the shore, grandparents place was a world of working watermen that didn't have a lot of disposable income. Things that were purchased had to be worth it in everyday practicality. Shotguns were simple break open Harrington Richardson or Stevens. Everyone had at least two of them, one stashed behind the kitchen door and the other stashed on the boat. Many an illegal duck dinner was served from a sudden target of opportunity while out on the boat harvesting crabs in the summer and oysters in the winter. And everyone had a .22 rifle. Like the shotguns, the rifles were simple rugged things that sometimes has a flashlight taped under the barrel. There was no shortage of poaching by many people down on the bay, and it was a fact of life that families had to be fed. Guns were just a plain tool to get a job done.
Knives were the same. Spending summers down on the bay, I got to know these characters well. I was always a bit surprised at how business like they were in choices of tools. That had a great influence on me growing up. These rough old cobs, poachers, loafers and sometimes chicken thieves all carried a very modest size pocket knife. Case Imperial, and Western were very popular and I guess it was my fate that the styles of knives I saw actually used by hard working watermen and poachers had a huge influence on me. Stockmen, barlow's, two blade jacks, all were used hard as what the modern folk call EDC items. All seemed to be in the 3 1/4 to 3 3/4 inch size. Stripping wire, cutting twine, scraping and rough work that few office cubicle workers will ever know. But they didn't use those knives for game. For that, the universal choice was the little stacked leather handle sheath knives called a Little Finn. Usually about a 3 inch blade.
But that was just the summer. The rest of the year I was a resident of Washington D.C. until dad moved us out to the Maryland suburb just outside of D.C. Pocket knives were still in use, and the small two blade jacks and penknives were the common knives of the day. Some of the tradesmen had specialized knives like surplus TL-29's, but they were not as common as the small jacks and pens. When I left home and joined the army I had still been carrying the scout knife dad gave me. I left it home as I didn't want it stolen and ended up with an army issue all steel scout knife from Camillus. I think my fate was sealed at this point. I started out with a scout knife and still was using a scout knife. Later on I picked up a Victorinox SAK and I think I was doomed. I did pick up a Buck 301 stockman later on and carried that knife for the next 25 years and used the ever lovin dog poo out of it. These two knife patterns held sway for the next 50 years. Everything I used in later life was either a small SAK of some kind or a stockman like the smaller Buck 303 cadet. I had got too used to having more than one blade and a choice of tools on a small package in my pocket. Oh, once in a while I strayed with a two blade pen pattern but always came back to the SAK and small stockman.
I've never had any interest in a lock blade knife, maybe because of the time and place I grew up, or the grownups I watched and learned from. As a kid, I guess there was a certain hero worship at work, and I watched men like my dad, granddad, Uncle Paul, Matt Rankin, and they all did just fine with the 1950's era slip joints. In fact, they all looked down on the lockbacks of the day that were the 'switchblades' of the ducktail haircut crowd. Called them punks weapons. I guess I look back on my life and I feel very thankful to have had such people to learn from. I think fate smiled on me when I was a kid. To this day, I think the root of my minimalist pragmatic outlook is an off shoot of my early days as a pup watching what the grown up big dogs did. I think back with some amusement at my reaction to the first Buck 110 I saw and handled when they came out. I looked at the thing, totally turned off by the fact that it had just one blade, weighed what a small pistol did, and I said something like 'what is this clunker good for?'
Now as an old man looking back on life, I'm very happy that fate guided me on the path it did. I'm even still using the same kind of small SAK's and slip joints I've used my whole life and haven't been caught short yet. I'm doing more fishing than ever before, and siting in a folding chair on the shady bank of the San Gabriel river ain't a bad way to spend retirement.
Like my old man told me a very long time ago, "It doesn't have to be big, just sharp."
Thanks dad!
They all have a great deal in what happens in our life. I'm very convinced of that. The choices we make or sometimes have made for us. Who we are and more importantly, what we are sometimes has been determined by luck or fate. What we learned from our fathers, what we experienced in either the planned or unplanned events of our lives. Like what knives we like.
If I had been brought up in a later era or other place my choices my have been very different. Being mostly a city kid with summer time down on Marylands Eastern shore, I grew up with a foot in two different worlds. But pocket knives were a common thread. By age 12 dad had given me a nice scout knife and our scout leader of our troop was an old mud Marine who carried a real Remington scout knife. That set the bar pretty high for us kids, as the scout master, Mr. Van was a Demi God we'd follow to the nether regions if need be.
Down on the shore, grandparents place was a world of working watermen that didn't have a lot of disposable income. Things that were purchased had to be worth it in everyday practicality. Shotguns were simple break open Harrington Richardson or Stevens. Everyone had at least two of them, one stashed behind the kitchen door and the other stashed on the boat. Many an illegal duck dinner was served from a sudden target of opportunity while out on the boat harvesting crabs in the summer and oysters in the winter. And everyone had a .22 rifle. Like the shotguns, the rifles were simple rugged things that sometimes has a flashlight taped under the barrel. There was no shortage of poaching by many people down on the bay, and it was a fact of life that families had to be fed. Guns were just a plain tool to get a job done.
Knives were the same. Spending summers down on the bay, I got to know these characters well. I was always a bit surprised at how business like they were in choices of tools. That had a great influence on me growing up. These rough old cobs, poachers, loafers and sometimes chicken thieves all carried a very modest size pocket knife. Case Imperial, and Western were very popular and I guess it was my fate that the styles of knives I saw actually used by hard working watermen and poachers had a huge influence on me. Stockmen, barlow's, two blade jacks, all were used hard as what the modern folk call EDC items. All seemed to be in the 3 1/4 to 3 3/4 inch size. Stripping wire, cutting twine, scraping and rough work that few office cubicle workers will ever know. But they didn't use those knives for game. For that, the universal choice was the little stacked leather handle sheath knives called a Little Finn. Usually about a 3 inch blade.
But that was just the summer. The rest of the year I was a resident of Washington D.C. until dad moved us out to the Maryland suburb just outside of D.C. Pocket knives were still in use, and the small two blade jacks and penknives were the common knives of the day. Some of the tradesmen had specialized knives like surplus TL-29's, but they were not as common as the small jacks and pens. When I left home and joined the army I had still been carrying the scout knife dad gave me. I left it home as I didn't want it stolen and ended up with an army issue all steel scout knife from Camillus. I think my fate was sealed at this point. I started out with a scout knife and still was using a scout knife. Later on I picked up a Victorinox SAK and I think I was doomed. I did pick up a Buck 301 stockman later on and carried that knife for the next 25 years and used the ever lovin dog poo out of it. These two knife patterns held sway for the next 50 years. Everything I used in later life was either a small SAK of some kind or a stockman like the smaller Buck 303 cadet. I had got too used to having more than one blade and a choice of tools on a small package in my pocket. Oh, once in a while I strayed with a two blade pen pattern but always came back to the SAK and small stockman.
I've never had any interest in a lock blade knife, maybe because of the time and place I grew up, or the grownups I watched and learned from. As a kid, I guess there was a certain hero worship at work, and I watched men like my dad, granddad, Uncle Paul, Matt Rankin, and they all did just fine with the 1950's era slip joints. In fact, they all looked down on the lockbacks of the day that were the 'switchblades' of the ducktail haircut crowd. Called them punks weapons. I guess I look back on my life and I feel very thankful to have had such people to learn from. I think fate smiled on me when I was a kid. To this day, I think the root of my minimalist pragmatic outlook is an off shoot of my early days as a pup watching what the grown up big dogs did. I think back with some amusement at my reaction to the first Buck 110 I saw and handled when they came out. I looked at the thing, totally turned off by the fact that it had just one blade, weighed what a small pistol did, and I said something like 'what is this clunker good for?'
Now as an old man looking back on life, I'm very happy that fate guided me on the path it did. I'm even still using the same kind of small SAK's and slip joints I've used my whole life and haven't been caught short yet. I'm doing more fishing than ever before, and siting in a folding chair on the shady bank of the San Gabriel river ain't a bad way to spend retirement.
Like my old man told me a very long time ago, "It doesn't have to be big, just sharp."
Thanks dad!
Last edited:
My childhood was in the 80's and in 1984 my family built a camp in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan and at the time it was at least a 30 minute drive to any town that had electricity and running water. My typical everyday life at home really did not have the need for an EDC simply because times were different. However once the fall rolled around and grouse season started then most of my time was spent at the hunting camp with my Dad. At the camp is where I had my stash of necessary tools that I kept in a shoe box... it had my binoculars, flashlights, compass and always had my Buck 105 fixed blade and an old Chicago Cutlery lock back. After reading your story it made me think about the times during my childhood where I could remember my Dad, Grandpa, Uncle's and Cousin's using knives and it was largely at our very humble piece of heaven on Earth; the hunting camp. In fact, the night before deer season opener, I was the designated "knife sharpener" and everyone would throw their knives in front of me after supper and say "make it sharp!"
