Sometimes an odd event in life can come back many years later, and when least expected.
Today was a hot humid day, and Pearl The Wonder Corgi and I were out at the little lake in the upscale community of the Kentlands near our home. A short walk around the lake, Pearl likes to watch the geese, and then we both needed a breather. Pearl is getting on in years now, like we all do, and at 13 and a half, she's not up to long walks anymore, but then, I'm not sure I am either. Especially when it's really hot.
Theres this old magnolia tree toward the bottom of the lawn of the Kentlands mansion, that is a favorite rest spot for us. For some reason, the tree is more like a southern live oak in shape on a smaller scale, with limbs stretching out horizontal to the ground. One limb in particular is only a few feet off the found and a perfect bench hight. Plus the tree offered a deep cool shade for an aging corgi dog and her owner. Some of the blossoms were still on the tree, and the shaded air had a slight lemon scent aided by the slight cool feeling breeze under the tree. Of course, Pearl settled right in, rolling on her back then assuming her Sphinx like lookout position in the shade. While wanting to cool down a bit after our walk around the lake, I packed and lit up my meerschaum pipe I've been working on to get it seasoned. With a good pipe going, I picked up a small stick and started to whittle a bit with my Northwoods stockman.
I wasn't really paying attention to who or what was going on, but I was kind of aware of a couple of kids coming down the sidewalk on skateboards. Typical kids, kind of early teens, laughing and having a good time on a hot summer day. I just created some thin shavings on the stick, and puffed my pipe, aware of a new quiet as the skateboarders had stopped right by the magnolia tree. I glanced up, and saw one kid staring at me with a fixed look of amazement and recognition. Kind of a tall thin kid, maybe 14ish or so, and I looked over at him and I wondered if he was some son of a friend of Karen's that had maybe recognized me. He was grinning, and I was quite embarrassed at the fact that he didn't look at all familiar.
"Like, Dude, I know you!" he said to me.
I kept staring at him staring at me and I couldn't come up with anything, so I was a bit uncomfortable.
"Do you?" I asked him.
He told his friend he'd be along in a while, and tucked his skateboard under his arm and came walking over to the shade under the magnolia tree. Pearl got up, tail wagging, and the kid reached down and gave her a pat on the head.
"This is too much! You even have the same dog as when I was a kid. Neither of you look any different now. You're even carving on a stick like when I saw you last. Oh man, I can't believe this." He went on.
By this time, Pearl recognizing a good thing, had rolled over on her back always looking for a belly rub. The kid laughed and gave Pearl a good one, while he looked over at me sitting there on the magnolia limb, knife in hand puffing on a pipe. Slowly, as I searched the cobweb laden recesses of memory, not an easy thing, I came up with a memory of a small boy, years ago, on this very spot, asking me about the knife. Slowly, amazement took over my thoughts. I said as much.
"Yeah man, you showed me your knife, and even let me cut on a stick with it. It made me think, and I never forgot it. Like, you were an influence on me, dude! Look!" he said as he pulled up on a flap on his khaki cargo shorts that looked to big for him. There was the sound of velcro, and then he was holding out a red handled knife. The kid was holding out a well used Victorinox tinker, with the red handles scratched up, and a lanyard of olive green paracord.
"You really got a knife because of me?" I asked him, kind of touched.
"For sure, man. I never forgot what it felt like when I cut on that stick, and what you said to me that day. My dad would never get me one, so I saved up my money I got from lawn cutting, and got this over at Dicks. I use it for all kinds of stuff, and I can't imagine not having it now. What kind of knife is that you have?
I showed him the Northwoods, and we talked knives for bit. I told him about the Blade Forums, and the traditional forum, and he said he'd check it out. I found myself studying the kid, and he seemed like a real all American kid out of a Norman Rockwell painting of summer, but modernized a bit. Kind of a tall skinny kid, baggy T shirt, cargo shorts, black converse sneakers, and the ever present skateboard. A picture of summer in the suburbs, out of school, enjoying the freedom, heading down to the lake, and a pocket knife in a pocket. Somehow I felt a little encouraged by this. In spite of everything, this kid had become a knife person. But I had to ask him.
"Did you ever get the Red Rider BB gun?"
He grinned that ear to ear grin.
"No man, but I did one better. I cut some lawns, and used the money to get a Crossman pellet gun. There's no place to shoot it around here legally, so my dad lets me shoot in the basement. I got a box stuffed with folded up newspapers, and I tape a target on it and practice. I'm not too bad with it. " the kid said proudly.
My mind was running in high gear while he was talking, a dangerous thing. But I had to ask him.
"Do you keep your knife sharp?"
He looked a little sheepish, and handed me his SAK. I opened the main blade and it was a bit dull. The pen blade not so much.
"I know I gotta sharpen it, but I'm not sure what to use on it." he said. "They got all kinds of stuff at Dicks, but some of it is kinda pricy."
"Has your mom got coffee mugs?" I asked him. He looked puzzled.
"Yeah, I guess."
I told him about the bottom of the coffee mug trick, as well as the top edge of a car window trick, and the under side edge of the toilet tank lid trick. I threw in the smooth stone from a creek trick as well. That got him grinning like a Cheshire cat.
"Like that sounds so cool. My mom's gonna freak when I use a coffee cup to sharpen my knife!"
We talked some more, and I told him about the holy trinity of sight picture, breath control and trigger squeeze. He adsorbed it all, I hoped. We talked knives some more, and we parted company. He going off to meet up with friends, and I back to an air conditioned home with Pearl The Wonder Corgi in need of a nice cool bowl of water. I wonder at the red gods of fate, and the games they like to play with us. And how strange it was to run into the same kid years later, at the same spot, and have him recognize me, and proudly show me the pocket knife he now carries because of a chance meeting with some strange man many years ago. And what seed planted so long ago in a young mind, finally taking root in spite of his surrounding environment.
As we went out ways, he looked back and asked me; "Hey man, how do I get a hold of you if I have a question?"
I thought a bit.
"Just look under the magnolia tree. I'll be around."
Another knife knut coming up.
Today was a hot humid day, and Pearl The Wonder Corgi and I were out at the little lake in the upscale community of the Kentlands near our home. A short walk around the lake, Pearl likes to watch the geese, and then we both needed a breather. Pearl is getting on in years now, like we all do, and at 13 and a half, she's not up to long walks anymore, but then, I'm not sure I am either. Especially when it's really hot.
Theres this old magnolia tree toward the bottom of the lawn of the Kentlands mansion, that is a favorite rest spot for us. For some reason, the tree is more like a southern live oak in shape on a smaller scale, with limbs stretching out horizontal to the ground. One limb in particular is only a few feet off the found and a perfect bench hight. Plus the tree offered a deep cool shade for an aging corgi dog and her owner. Some of the blossoms were still on the tree, and the shaded air had a slight lemon scent aided by the slight cool feeling breeze under the tree. Of course, Pearl settled right in, rolling on her back then assuming her Sphinx like lookout position in the shade. While wanting to cool down a bit after our walk around the lake, I packed and lit up my meerschaum pipe I've been working on to get it seasoned. With a good pipe going, I picked up a small stick and started to whittle a bit with my Northwoods stockman.
I wasn't really paying attention to who or what was going on, but I was kind of aware of a couple of kids coming down the sidewalk on skateboards. Typical kids, kind of early teens, laughing and having a good time on a hot summer day. I just created some thin shavings on the stick, and puffed my pipe, aware of a new quiet as the skateboarders had stopped right by the magnolia tree. I glanced up, and saw one kid staring at me with a fixed look of amazement and recognition. Kind of a tall thin kid, maybe 14ish or so, and I looked over at him and I wondered if he was some son of a friend of Karen's that had maybe recognized me. He was grinning, and I was quite embarrassed at the fact that he didn't look at all familiar.
"Like, Dude, I know you!" he said to me.
I kept staring at him staring at me and I couldn't come up with anything, so I was a bit uncomfortable.
"Do you?" I asked him.
He told his friend he'd be along in a while, and tucked his skateboard under his arm and came walking over to the shade under the magnolia tree. Pearl got up, tail wagging, and the kid reached down and gave her a pat on the head.
"This is too much! You even have the same dog as when I was a kid. Neither of you look any different now. You're even carving on a stick like when I saw you last. Oh man, I can't believe this." He went on.
By this time, Pearl recognizing a good thing, had rolled over on her back always looking for a belly rub. The kid laughed and gave Pearl a good one, while he looked over at me sitting there on the magnolia limb, knife in hand puffing on a pipe. Slowly, as I searched the cobweb laden recesses of memory, not an easy thing, I came up with a memory of a small boy, years ago, on this very spot, asking me about the knife. Slowly, amazement took over my thoughts. I said as much.
"Yeah man, you showed me your knife, and even let me cut on a stick with it. It made me think, and I never forgot it. Like, you were an influence on me, dude! Look!" he said as he pulled up on a flap on his khaki cargo shorts that looked to big for him. There was the sound of velcro, and then he was holding out a red handled knife. The kid was holding out a well used Victorinox tinker, with the red handles scratched up, and a lanyard of olive green paracord.
"You really got a knife because of me?" I asked him, kind of touched.
"For sure, man. I never forgot what it felt like when I cut on that stick, and what you said to me that day. My dad would never get me one, so I saved up my money I got from lawn cutting, and got this over at Dicks. I use it for all kinds of stuff, and I can't imagine not having it now. What kind of knife is that you have?
I showed him the Northwoods, and we talked knives for bit. I told him about the Blade Forums, and the traditional forum, and he said he'd check it out. I found myself studying the kid, and he seemed like a real all American kid out of a Norman Rockwell painting of summer, but modernized a bit. Kind of a tall skinny kid, baggy T shirt, cargo shorts, black converse sneakers, and the ever present skateboard. A picture of summer in the suburbs, out of school, enjoying the freedom, heading down to the lake, and a pocket knife in a pocket. Somehow I felt a little encouraged by this. In spite of everything, this kid had become a knife person. But I had to ask him.
"Did you ever get the Red Rider BB gun?"
He grinned that ear to ear grin.
"No man, but I did one better. I cut some lawns, and used the money to get a Crossman pellet gun. There's no place to shoot it around here legally, so my dad lets me shoot in the basement. I got a box stuffed with folded up newspapers, and I tape a target on it and practice. I'm not too bad with it. " the kid said proudly.
My mind was running in high gear while he was talking, a dangerous thing. But I had to ask him.
"Do you keep your knife sharp?"
He looked a little sheepish, and handed me his SAK. I opened the main blade and it was a bit dull. The pen blade not so much.
"I know I gotta sharpen it, but I'm not sure what to use on it." he said. "They got all kinds of stuff at Dicks, but some of it is kinda pricy."
"Has your mom got coffee mugs?" I asked him. He looked puzzled.
"Yeah, I guess."
I told him about the bottom of the coffee mug trick, as well as the top edge of a car window trick, and the under side edge of the toilet tank lid trick. I threw in the smooth stone from a creek trick as well. That got him grinning like a Cheshire cat.
"Like that sounds so cool. My mom's gonna freak when I use a coffee cup to sharpen my knife!"
We talked some more, and I told him about the holy trinity of sight picture, breath control and trigger squeeze. He adsorbed it all, I hoped. We talked knives some more, and we parted company. He going off to meet up with friends, and I back to an air conditioned home with Pearl The Wonder Corgi in need of a nice cool bowl of water. I wonder at the red gods of fate, and the games they like to play with us. And how strange it was to run into the same kid years later, at the same spot, and have him recognize me, and proudly show me the pocket knife he now carries because of a chance meeting with some strange man many years ago. And what seed planted so long ago in a young mind, finally taking root in spite of his surrounding environment.
As we went out ways, he looked back and asked me; "Hey man, how do I get a hold of you if I have a question?"
I thought a bit.
"Just look under the magnolia tree. I'll be around."
Another knife knut coming up.
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