I've went around the bend at last, and boxed up the last of my own knives to give away. From now on my only pocket knives are the ones from my family in the cigar box on top of my dresser. Over the last several months I've been carrying dad's old peanut, and grandads old Hen and Rooster and getting by quite well. Theres a few other knives in the cigar box that belonged to Uncle Mike, Uncle Pat, friend and co-worker Andy Warden, and fellow soldier Paul Britton.
There may be a reason for this maddness that some would not agree with. I have a third grandchild that is at the stage where he is making semi-intellegent sounds and stumbles about falling down now and then. Plus, finally, our third and last child who we were worrying about a bit, finally got married just over a year ago. Now he and his wife are expecting to make Karen and I grandparents for a fourth time.
Givin the law of averedges, and my present age, I worry about being around for the comming of age of this last grandchild who is going to be born several months from now, give or take a few days. My bone stag peanut and Case yellow soddie are now wrapped in a wood box with a letter to my yet unborn grandchild. If I'm still around in 8 or 9 years I'll give it to him/her myself. My yellow peanut and yellow Eye brand soddie are wrapped up in a box for the toddler who will come of age in about 7 or 8 years.
Now I don't plan on leaving anytime real soon, but I have always been the type to plan for the just in case. Just in case.
I do find it somewhat ironic, that given my liking for soddies, now most of my knives will be stockmen with the sole exeption of dad's old peanut and the Wenger SI that will be in the belt pouch with the little AAA Dorcy LED flashlight. I guess in the end I'll be edc'ing the knives that grandad, dad, Uncle Mike, and the others picked for their edc all those years/decades ago. I'm thinking of all those years I used a Buck 301 stockman in the army, and now in a roundabout way I'm going back to a stockman. Well, they say life is a big circle.
I think that a few recent threads may have got me to thinking about things, in the traditional sense. I took some lemon oil and polished up the stag scales on grandads knife, and the red bone scales on Paul's old Case. Boy, Case did'nt spare the dye back in those days. A bit of rubbing with a soft rag and some lemon oil, and those red bone scales took on a deep blood red sheen. The dull yellow of the old stag on grandads Hen and Rooster turned a mellow golden hue. I'm not even going to polish up the dark grey blades.
Or am I being selfish? Should these old knives be "saved" for the future generations that may wish to collect them? But I think about the fact that they would not know these men like I have known them. They would be just old collector knives to them, with a past imagined in shadows. To me they are part of the family and friends I knew. I can't decribe the pleasure of slicing open a plastic blister package this morning with Uncle Mike's old stockman. The old razor edge carbon blade went through the package just as easy as I imagine it went through the wet canvas straps holding a liferaft on the deck of a certain burning PT boat. Two days ago dad's 1937 era peanut opened a UPS box as neatly as a box cutter.
For better or worse, I gave the two wrapped packages to my two children with the letter in each one for the two different grandchilds. From now on my edc pocket knife is going to be between 50 and 70 years old, somewhat worn but still in decent to good shape.
There may be a reason for this maddness that some would not agree with. I have a third grandchild that is at the stage where he is making semi-intellegent sounds and stumbles about falling down now and then. Plus, finally, our third and last child who we were worrying about a bit, finally got married just over a year ago. Now he and his wife are expecting to make Karen and I grandparents for a fourth time.
Givin the law of averedges, and my present age, I worry about being around for the comming of age of this last grandchild who is going to be born several months from now, give or take a few days. My bone stag peanut and Case yellow soddie are now wrapped in a wood box with a letter to my yet unborn grandchild. If I'm still around in 8 or 9 years I'll give it to him/her myself. My yellow peanut and yellow Eye brand soddie are wrapped up in a box for the toddler who will come of age in about 7 or 8 years.
Now I don't plan on leaving anytime real soon, but I have always been the type to plan for the just in case. Just in case.
I do find it somewhat ironic, that given my liking for soddies, now most of my knives will be stockmen with the sole exeption of dad's old peanut and the Wenger SI that will be in the belt pouch with the little AAA Dorcy LED flashlight. I guess in the end I'll be edc'ing the knives that grandad, dad, Uncle Mike, and the others picked for their edc all those years/decades ago. I'm thinking of all those years I used a Buck 301 stockman in the army, and now in a roundabout way I'm going back to a stockman. Well, they say life is a big circle.
I think that a few recent threads may have got me to thinking about things, in the traditional sense. I took some lemon oil and polished up the stag scales on grandads knife, and the red bone scales on Paul's old Case. Boy, Case did'nt spare the dye back in those days. A bit of rubbing with a soft rag and some lemon oil, and those red bone scales took on a deep blood red sheen. The dull yellow of the old stag on grandads Hen and Rooster turned a mellow golden hue. I'm not even going to polish up the dark grey blades.
Or am I being selfish? Should these old knives be "saved" for the future generations that may wish to collect them? But I think about the fact that they would not know these men like I have known them. They would be just old collector knives to them, with a past imagined in shadows. To me they are part of the family and friends I knew. I can't decribe the pleasure of slicing open a plastic blister package this morning with Uncle Mike's old stockman. The old razor edge carbon blade went through the package just as easy as I imagine it went through the wet canvas straps holding a liferaft on the deck of a certain burning PT boat. Two days ago dad's 1937 era peanut opened a UPS box as neatly as a box cutter.
For better or worse, I gave the two wrapped packages to my two children with the letter in each one for the two different grandchilds. From now on my edc pocket knife is going to be between 50 and 70 years old, somewhat worn but still in decent to good shape.
One thing that's kinda unfortunate about the American society is the disconnect in between the generations. These things that you are leaving them is a "link", if you will, from you to them. When your grandkids get older, they will look at those knives and know who you were and what kinda of life you led.
With all the stories he has to tell, if he were going to put them all together, they would have to be in the form of a book.