The doorbell rang as the man was just getting into the book he'd picked out. He heard his wife greet the visitor and he set the book down and got up. He was surprised when his nephew Mark, came into the room. The young man had a nylon daypack over one shoulder, and he greeted his old Uncle warmly. They sat down in the quiet den and made small talk for a minute. A drink was offered and accepted.
"So, what to we owe the pleasure of this visit?" the old man asked.
The young man looked a bit embarrassed as he got it off his chest.
"Uncle, I want to know what you'd want for your GEC number 15? You know I've admired that knife, and I'm interested in swapping whatever you want for it." he said.
The old man tried to hide a smile as he replied, " Well boy, anything is a pretty big loop to toss out there. Maybe I'll ask something unreasonable, like a winter condo in Key West!. "
"No you won't, because you're too high principled for that. You think I didn't learn anything about you all those hours we spent on the river bank fishing?" Mark replied with a grin. "Okay, we may as well get down to business, old man."
"Old man?!, I'll dance your grave sonny boy!" the man said jokingly, as he watched his nephew zip open the top of the daypack he'd set down on the floor. He pulled out the large jug of the old man's favorite bourbon, the largest one, and the black label to boot. Mark set the jug down on the little coffee table. The old man looked at the gallon jug of bourbon, and was impressed.
"Well, looks like you came loaded for bear, pup. You expect me to trade you a nice knife for that whiskey? " he asked.
"No Uncle, that's the opening shot." said Mark. The young man dug into the bag again, and came up with a large one pound bag of the old man's favorite pipe tobacco. The old man looked at the whiskey and tobacco on the table with a thoughtful expression.
"You must want that knife bad, pup. Why didn't you just buy one. The number 15 is a common enough model from GEC. Mine's nothing special."
For a moment the young man looked embarrassed. He looked away, then back again, seemingly suddenly too self conscious to meet the old mans eyes.
"But it wouldn't be yours." was all he muttered.
There was a quiet moment in the den, and the old man got up and fetched a couple shot glasses from the kitchen. He came back a minute, broke open the bottle of whiskey and poured two shots. He picked up the glass, looked at his nephew.
"Drink up, Mark. Heck of a shame to have some nice bourbon on hand and not enjoy it." he said.
They tossed down the whiskey, and Mark looked at his uncle.
"When dad ran out on mom, and I was just a little kid, you were always there. All those times you took me out in the canoe and taught me to fish, and shoot that old .22 rifle, you made me feel like we weren't abandoned. It still means something to me. That's why I don't want any other number 15. I like the idea of having yours. I've got your old sodbuster, and it's still in pretty good shape. Here look." he said as he took out an old wood handled Eye-Brand sodbuster with a wood handle that was almost black, and the carbon steel blade worn a bit slimmer with the use of many years.
The old man pulled open the blade and examined it carefully. It was well used, but not abused, with a dark gray patina and a bright clean razor edge running up the blade with no nicks or chips. For all the years and use,it showed good care. He handed it back to his nephew, and then pulled his GEC out of his pants pocket. He'd slipped it in there when he had gone to the kitchen fetch the shot glasses, intending the whole time to just give the young man the knife. He handed it over to his nephew.
"You win, Mark. I never could say no to a nice smooth sipping whiskey and tobacco to smoke. Take care of it, son, it's a great little knife."
The young man was moved and grabbed his uncle in a bear hug as he was overcome with joy.
"Okay, okay son." the old man said, " I like my ribs just the way they are. Unbroken. Take it easy on an old man."
" Thanks Uncle Carl, I really will take great care of this knife. Thanks a ton." Mark told his uncle.
Afterward, when his nephew had left, the old man took out a large lattice carved meerschaum pipe and started to load it. But he noticed the bowl needed a little bit of cleaning, and not finding his pipe tool in his pocket, took out the Northwoods stockman he'd been carrying for some months now. As he carefully scraped the inside of the bowl with the spay blade, his wife watched him while leaning against the door frame of the den. Then she came over and sat down next to him on the sofa.
"Thank you." was all she said.
"For what?" the man asked.
"Mark really wanted that knife. I was glad you let him talk you out of it." she said.
"Heck, I'd have just given it to him if he wanted it. " the man said.
"I know, but this way his honor was saved. He's learned to be very independent from someone I sort of know. When that no good ran out on your sister, you were more of a father to him than that guy ever was. He learned everything he is from you. He'd never have asked for that knife or let you just give it to him. But this way he traded it from you. Everyones more happy all around. Besides, it wasn't your knife."
The old man looked over at her with a mystified expression.
"What do you mean, it wasn't my knife? I used the heck out of it. It did what I needed, and it rode plenty of miles in my pocket." he told her.
"Yes, you used it. But do you remember what knife you were carrying when we met? " she asked him.
"The old Buck stockman? I had that one a longtime." he said.
" I was impressed. I'd watch you look thoughtful and pick which blade to use. And for years, even when the kids were little and saved up their allowance to buy you the Old Spice for fathers day, you'd take your time picking which blade to open your present with that morning while kids were besides themselves with excitement waiting for you to open the gift. It was so you, being thoughtful."
"Nonsense," the man told his wife with a good humored grin, " I was just getting back a them for all the 2AM wake ups with a upset tummy or can't sleep and needs a drink of water. One takes what revenge one can."
"Maybe. But that knife was always so you. I got used to seeing you with it. The kids were used to seeing you with it. It was sort of a personal trade mark. Even when you stopped carrying it, and used that one just like it but a little smaller that your friend Andy had, it was still kind of right. The three blade was your type of knife. Now these past ten or twelve years you've been carrying all those other knives, it just seems right that you're back where you were when we met in Texas. The stockman just sort of suits you. " his wife told him.
His wife got up and moved to the doorway.
"I'm going up to bed. Don't be long." she said with a smile.
The man sat there and smoked his pipe for bit, and looked at the Northwoods stockman. He carefully wiped off a bit of soot from the spey blade, and carefully closed it. Ran his thumb up and down the rosewood scale a bit, and admired how it felt in hand. Maybe the Japanese had it right. Maybe a man does go a full circle in his life. Then he put his pipe down, closed his knife, and called it a day going upstairs to join his wife.
"So, what to we owe the pleasure of this visit?" the old man asked.
The young man looked a bit embarrassed as he got it off his chest.
"Uncle, I want to know what you'd want for your GEC number 15? You know I've admired that knife, and I'm interested in swapping whatever you want for it." he said.
The old man tried to hide a smile as he replied, " Well boy, anything is a pretty big loop to toss out there. Maybe I'll ask something unreasonable, like a winter condo in Key West!. "
"No you won't, because you're too high principled for that. You think I didn't learn anything about you all those hours we spent on the river bank fishing?" Mark replied with a grin. "Okay, we may as well get down to business, old man."
"Old man?!, I'll dance your grave sonny boy!" the man said jokingly, as he watched his nephew zip open the top of the daypack he'd set down on the floor. He pulled out the large jug of the old man's favorite bourbon, the largest one, and the black label to boot. Mark set the jug down on the little coffee table. The old man looked at the gallon jug of bourbon, and was impressed.
"Well, looks like you came loaded for bear, pup. You expect me to trade you a nice knife for that whiskey? " he asked.
"No Uncle, that's the opening shot." said Mark. The young man dug into the bag again, and came up with a large one pound bag of the old man's favorite pipe tobacco. The old man looked at the whiskey and tobacco on the table with a thoughtful expression.
"You must want that knife bad, pup. Why didn't you just buy one. The number 15 is a common enough model from GEC. Mine's nothing special."
For a moment the young man looked embarrassed. He looked away, then back again, seemingly suddenly too self conscious to meet the old mans eyes.
"But it wouldn't be yours." was all he muttered.
There was a quiet moment in the den, and the old man got up and fetched a couple shot glasses from the kitchen. He came back a minute, broke open the bottle of whiskey and poured two shots. He picked up the glass, looked at his nephew.
"Drink up, Mark. Heck of a shame to have some nice bourbon on hand and not enjoy it." he said.
They tossed down the whiskey, and Mark looked at his uncle.
"When dad ran out on mom, and I was just a little kid, you were always there. All those times you took me out in the canoe and taught me to fish, and shoot that old .22 rifle, you made me feel like we weren't abandoned. It still means something to me. That's why I don't want any other number 15. I like the idea of having yours. I've got your old sodbuster, and it's still in pretty good shape. Here look." he said as he took out an old wood handled Eye-Brand sodbuster with a wood handle that was almost black, and the carbon steel blade worn a bit slimmer with the use of many years.
The old man pulled open the blade and examined it carefully. It was well used, but not abused, with a dark gray patina and a bright clean razor edge running up the blade with no nicks or chips. For all the years and use,it showed good care. He handed it back to his nephew, and then pulled his GEC out of his pants pocket. He'd slipped it in there when he had gone to the kitchen fetch the shot glasses, intending the whole time to just give the young man the knife. He handed it over to his nephew.
"You win, Mark. I never could say no to a nice smooth sipping whiskey and tobacco to smoke. Take care of it, son, it's a great little knife."
The young man was moved and grabbed his uncle in a bear hug as he was overcome with joy.
"Okay, okay son." the old man said, " I like my ribs just the way they are. Unbroken. Take it easy on an old man."
" Thanks Uncle Carl, I really will take great care of this knife. Thanks a ton." Mark told his uncle.
Afterward, when his nephew had left, the old man took out a large lattice carved meerschaum pipe and started to load it. But he noticed the bowl needed a little bit of cleaning, and not finding his pipe tool in his pocket, took out the Northwoods stockman he'd been carrying for some months now. As he carefully scraped the inside of the bowl with the spay blade, his wife watched him while leaning against the door frame of the den. Then she came over and sat down next to him on the sofa.
"Thank you." was all she said.
"For what?" the man asked.
"Mark really wanted that knife. I was glad you let him talk you out of it." she said.
"Heck, I'd have just given it to him if he wanted it. " the man said.
"I know, but this way his honor was saved. He's learned to be very independent from someone I sort of know. When that no good ran out on your sister, you were more of a father to him than that guy ever was. He learned everything he is from you. He'd never have asked for that knife or let you just give it to him. But this way he traded it from you. Everyones more happy all around. Besides, it wasn't your knife."
The old man looked over at her with a mystified expression.
"What do you mean, it wasn't my knife? I used the heck out of it. It did what I needed, and it rode plenty of miles in my pocket." he told her.
"Yes, you used it. But do you remember what knife you were carrying when we met? " she asked him.
"The old Buck stockman? I had that one a longtime." he said.
" I was impressed. I'd watch you look thoughtful and pick which blade to use. And for years, even when the kids were little and saved up their allowance to buy you the Old Spice for fathers day, you'd take your time picking which blade to open your present with that morning while kids were besides themselves with excitement waiting for you to open the gift. It was so you, being thoughtful."
"Nonsense," the man told his wife with a good humored grin, " I was just getting back a them for all the 2AM wake ups with a upset tummy or can't sleep and needs a drink of water. One takes what revenge one can."
"Maybe. But that knife was always so you. I got used to seeing you with it. The kids were used to seeing you with it. It was sort of a personal trade mark. Even when you stopped carrying it, and used that one just like it but a little smaller that your friend Andy had, it was still kind of right. The three blade was your type of knife. Now these past ten or twelve years you've been carrying all those other knives, it just seems right that you're back where you were when we met in Texas. The stockman just sort of suits you. " his wife told him.
His wife got up and moved to the doorway.
"I'm going up to bed. Don't be long." she said with a smile.
The man sat there and smoked his pipe for bit, and looked at the Northwoods stockman. He carefully wiped off a bit of soot from the spey blade, and carefully closed it. Ran his thumb up and down the rosewood scale a bit, and admired how it felt in hand. Maybe the Japanese had it right. Maybe a man does go a full circle in his life. Then he put his pipe down, closed his knife, and called it a day going upstairs to join his wife.
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