snowwolf
Gold Member
- Joined
- Nov 11, 2013
- Messages
- 1,975
Yesterday my mother gave me an unexpected gift.
I made this because I was between 6 and 8 and I couldn't get my own knife:
Couples of years later, I secretly traded it with my grand father's German dagger (he brought it back home after fighting the Germans in WWII)
It was exactly like this one, but lost in a Fire few years after when our house burned down.
My grand father punched a hole in it an hanged it on his WWII wall where the dagger was. When my grand mother noticed the switch, she asked where the dagger was. That's when my grand dad told he made a deal with me
Grand ma called my mother, big scandal, big fuss. I was crying out loud and my grand pa didn't want to take the dagger back (a deal is a deal, leave it to the boy)... My father finally sealed the deal after I promised not to "play" with it since it is not a toy.
My grand father kept it until his death and my mother never told me she got it back from grand pa's will.
Yesterday, she chose to return it to its maker. The last time I saw this wooden knife was more than 40 years ago. It was wrapped in a paper gift when she gave it to me. I felt the handle as soon as I had the package in my hand and recognized the gift right away. Wow, I remember every chunk of wood I carved out of it like yesterday. Probably the most vivid memory from that time.
This wooden knife marks the beginning of my passion for blades and that dagger was my first "not for use" blade. It took me many many years before I could actually put a nice knife to work. Before that, every time I had a new nice knife, it was always going on the "collectible" and never served for its intended purpose.
I made this because I was between 6 and 8 and I couldn't get my own knife:
Couples of years later, I secretly traded it with my grand father's German dagger (he brought it back home after fighting the Germans in WWII)
It was exactly like this one, but lost in a Fire few years after when our house burned down.
My grand father punched a hole in it an hanged it on his WWII wall where the dagger was. When my grand mother noticed the switch, she asked where the dagger was. That's when my grand dad told he made a deal with me
Grand ma called my mother, big scandal, big fuss. I was crying out loud and my grand pa didn't want to take the dagger back (a deal is a deal, leave it to the boy)... My father finally sealed the deal after I promised not to "play" with it since it is not a toy.My grand father kept it until his death and my mother never told me she got it back from grand pa's will.
Yesterday, she chose to return it to its maker. The last time I saw this wooden knife was more than 40 years ago. It was wrapped in a paper gift when she gave it to me. I felt the handle as soon as I had the package in my hand and recognized the gift right away. Wow, I remember every chunk of wood I carved out of it like yesterday. Probably the most vivid memory from that time.
This wooden knife marks the beginning of my passion for blades and that dagger was my first "not for use" blade. It took me many many years before I could actually put a nice knife to work. Before that, every time I had a new nice knife, it was always going on the "collectible" and never served for its intended purpose.
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