He was a typical southern California kid, into his skate board and going to the beach. But he was also a gifted young man, who had an instinct for electronics. A child computer genius, by high school was working part time at an electronics company to help support his single working mother. He had only dim memory of a father, who had left the family for parts unknown early on in the partnership that bore a baby boy. Growing up with no father, Robert, known as Robbie until he insisted that people call him Rob, had no real mature influence in his life, except for Mr, Styles, who ran Styles Electronics. Mr. Styles recognized early on the abilities of Rob, and by the young mans senior year in high school, Mr. Styles had made plans to promote Rob to assistant manager of the small company. Many of the computer problems that customers came in with, Rob could fix in a short while while many of his other employees struggled.
One day, while in the stock room, Rob was unboxing some new computers to set up, and was looking around for the safety blade utility knife that was used for such jobs. Mislaid by some other employee, he made his frustrations in a very vocal manner.
"Where the hell is the box opener?!" he yelled in frustration.
Mr. Styles poked his head into the stockroom, paused for a moment and then handed Rob a small pocket knife. Rob had never carried a knife before, not needing one much in his skateboard riding beach going California life, but he took Mr. Styles' knife and pulling open the blade he made short work of slicing open the box. Going to hand it back to his boss, he thanked him for the loan.
"You should had one of your own, Rob. A young man should have a sharp knife in his pocket." Mr. Styles told his young worker.
"Like, for what? I only need a knife for opening boxes here at work. What do I need a knife for?" Rob asked.
Mr. Styles gave Rob a long look as if making some judgement.
"Rob, you never know what you'll need a knife for, until you need one and don't have one. Maybe it will something trivial like opening a package. Or maybe it will be a life and death situation. It has happened to many people. It doesn't have to be a big knife, just a small sharp bit of steel will do."
Rob looked down on the little knife in his hand, with a blade on each end of the knife in a small black handle. He saw how a small knife would not take up a lot of room in his pocket. He held it out to Mr. Styles to take it back.
"Yeah, maybe one day I'll get one. I'll give it some thought." he told his boss. In truth, he would give it some thought, as Mr. Styles was a strong influence in his life. The kindly man was the closest thing to a father figure Rob had ever had, and enjoyed his working relationship and occasional advise. Later, he browsed online about pocket knives, and was amazed at the variety available on the market. He made a mental note to explore it further.
But fate and Mr. Styles took a hand and a few days later at work, the boss walked up to Rob with a small box in his hand.
"Here ya go, Rob. Your birthday is not too far off, so just consider this a early gift." he said.
Rob opened the box and saw a small pocket knife just like what Mr. Styles carried. The name 'Buck' was on the box, and Rob pulled open the bigger of the two blades and examined the little knife carefully.
"Thanks man! This is so cool, nobody ever gave me knife before." Rob said.
"It's a Buck Companion" said Mr. Styles, "just like the one I carry. Small enough to forget about until you need it, but capable of opening boxes, plastic packages, whatever. Who knows when you may need a sharp tool. Now you just have to give me a coin. Any kind of coin will do."
"Coin? Why?"
Mr. Styles told Rob of the old superstition and custom, and Rob dug in the pocket of his cargo pants and came up with a dime.
"Will this do?" he asked dubiously.
"That will be fine." his boss told him.
Rob didn't want to hurt the man's feelings, so he dropped the knife in his pocket and wondered what he was going to need a knife for. But in following few weeks, he used it for opening all kinds of packages. Plastic food wrappers, boxes at work, mail. At first he'd forget it was there and try to use his house key like he'd done forever. Then he'd remember he had a knife, pull it out and cut what needed to be cut. He slowly grew to like having the little knife in his pocket, and sometimes during the day would catch himself slipping a hand into his pocket and feeling it. Before long, he grew so used to having a sharp little knife in his pocket, he wondered how he had got along before it. A new and strange sense of a small measure of self reliance took hold, and Rob found himself looking at knives in the stores. He found online sites that told him what he was carrying was called a 'pen knife' because it had two blades pinned at opposite ends. The little Buck companion became part of his daily routine. Rob tried other kinds of knives in stores, but they all felt too big in his hand and pocket. Sub consciously he started to compare himself with Mr. Styles, wondering if this or that would be what Mr. Styles would carry.
As Rob's senior year progressed, Mr. Styles taught Rob to fish for trout, and tie flies. The high mountain lakes of California held the California Golden Trout, and Rob came to love the taste of fresh trout cooked on a bed of coals. He learned to gut and clean the fish using the little Buck pen knife. By his graduation, he'd become a competent trout fisherman, and had learned to keep the little knife sharp on the bottom of a coffee mug like Mr. Styles had shown him. Then a slow infection took hold. Rob had found himself accumulating pen knives. Going into a large sporting goods store, he saw a large display of Case knives. Rob fell in love with the way the jigged bone felt in his hand. And he was fascinated with the way the patina took hold of the CV blade steel. Gray one day, then blue tinted after cleaning a fish.
Rob became manager of Styles Electronics, and Mr. Styles was a father figure he'd never had. Then came Annie Tanaka. A raven haired Japanese American girl also a gifted computer expert, hired by Mr's Styles to handle the cyber security end of the business. Before long, Annie and Rob were an item, and soon were engaged. Both loved nature, and took hikes in the mountains and desert country. There were cookouts on the beach on cool California nights. Life was good. One day sitting down to a dinner made by Annie, Rob was surprised by Annie putting a colorful tissue wrapped package on the plate in front of him. He looked up questioningly.
"I know how you love those little pen knives, and I saw this in the store and thought you'd like it." she said.
Rob unwrapped the little bundle and discovered a pen knife. But not just any penknife, but a German made Boker with deep crimson red bone scales. It was beautiful, and Rob told her so. The little red Boker pushed the Buck and Case aside for a while, and it made Annie happy to see Rob carry and use it. But like the red handled Boker, the black handled Buck had sentimental feelings that went with it, and it was in a rotation of the three knives. The Buck, the Boker, and the Case were all carried, and all had a place in Rob's pocket. All took turns being a pocket worry stone and everyday tool.
Rob and Annie married, and they settled down to married life. Annie loved to cook her mostly Japanese themed vegetarian stir fried meals, and would work wonders with the fish that Rob caught. She only insisted that Rob clean the fish where he caught them, so fish scales would not end up on her counter tops. This was okay with Rob, and gave him half an excuse to use the razor sharp penknife of the day that was in his pocket. Then came the child. A healthy baby boy, they named Joseph, after Annie's dad, he became the center of their lives. Rob took fatherhood very seriously, as he made a promise to himself that his son would never grow up without a father to learn from. Soon as Rob came home from work, he'd go to Joey's crib and hoist the little boy out and sit with him while Annie made dinner. One night, Joey was on a crying jag, and Annie was trying to get dinner going.
"Try to see if you can stop him from crying, honey, I gotta get the dinner going. Shrimp and noodles in a few minutes." she told him.
Rob set down his bag and lifted the unhappy child out and onto his lap.
"What's the matter, big guy?" he asked his infant son, while offering him different brightly colored toys. Nothing helped, and Joey cried on. HIs diaper was dry, and Rob tried everything he knew from his scant experience on the job had taught him. Finally, in desperation, he waved the bright red Boker penknife in front of his son. The crying little boy fell silent immediately as his eyes fixed on the red handled Boker. Surprised, Rob moved the knife left, and the little boys eyes followed. He moved the knife right, and again the little boys eyes tracked the penknife like radar. Not wanting to risk the silence, Rob handed the penknife to the child, closed of course. The boy took the penknife in his chubby little fist and looked at it, then shook it, and finally teethed on it. Just then, Annie stuck her head in the door.
"Dinner's ready! How did you get him to stop cry " she stopped talking and stared at her young son." What the heck is he got there? Oh my God, you gave him your knife?" she asked him incredulously.
Rob shrugged.
"He can't open it and he's not crying. You want me to take it back?" he said.
Annie thought for a moment.
"No, the quiet is a pleasant change. I guess I'll just never understand the male mind. " she said and disappeared off to the kitchen.
Rob spoke to his son in a quiet voice.
"Okay, lets go eat. Your mother is really trying and it's really not that bad. But I promise you, we'll sneak out now and then for a burger and fries or a good chill dog. " he said, then added "And I'm going to put that knife aside, and it's gonna be yours when you get old enough. And I promise you we're gonna fish and camp and do all the things a father and son should do. Cross my heart!"
The infant just giggled and waved his chubby little fist, still tightly clutching the blood red handled Boker penknife.
One day, while in the stock room, Rob was unboxing some new computers to set up, and was looking around for the safety blade utility knife that was used for such jobs. Mislaid by some other employee, he made his frustrations in a very vocal manner.
"Where the hell is the box opener?!" he yelled in frustration.
Mr. Styles poked his head into the stockroom, paused for a moment and then handed Rob a small pocket knife. Rob had never carried a knife before, not needing one much in his skateboard riding beach going California life, but he took Mr. Styles' knife and pulling open the blade he made short work of slicing open the box. Going to hand it back to his boss, he thanked him for the loan.
"You should had one of your own, Rob. A young man should have a sharp knife in his pocket." Mr. Styles told his young worker.
"Like, for what? I only need a knife for opening boxes here at work. What do I need a knife for?" Rob asked.
Mr. Styles gave Rob a long look as if making some judgement.
"Rob, you never know what you'll need a knife for, until you need one and don't have one. Maybe it will something trivial like opening a package. Or maybe it will be a life and death situation. It has happened to many people. It doesn't have to be a big knife, just a small sharp bit of steel will do."
Rob looked down on the little knife in his hand, with a blade on each end of the knife in a small black handle. He saw how a small knife would not take up a lot of room in his pocket. He held it out to Mr. Styles to take it back.
"Yeah, maybe one day I'll get one. I'll give it some thought." he told his boss. In truth, he would give it some thought, as Mr. Styles was a strong influence in his life. The kindly man was the closest thing to a father figure Rob had ever had, and enjoyed his working relationship and occasional advise. Later, he browsed online about pocket knives, and was amazed at the variety available on the market. He made a mental note to explore it further.
But fate and Mr. Styles took a hand and a few days later at work, the boss walked up to Rob with a small box in his hand.
"Here ya go, Rob. Your birthday is not too far off, so just consider this a early gift." he said.
Rob opened the box and saw a small pocket knife just like what Mr. Styles carried. The name 'Buck' was on the box, and Rob pulled open the bigger of the two blades and examined the little knife carefully.
"Thanks man! This is so cool, nobody ever gave me knife before." Rob said.
"It's a Buck Companion" said Mr. Styles, "just like the one I carry. Small enough to forget about until you need it, but capable of opening boxes, plastic packages, whatever. Who knows when you may need a sharp tool. Now you just have to give me a coin. Any kind of coin will do."
"Coin? Why?"
Mr. Styles told Rob of the old superstition and custom, and Rob dug in the pocket of his cargo pants and came up with a dime.
"Will this do?" he asked dubiously.
"That will be fine." his boss told him.
Rob didn't want to hurt the man's feelings, so he dropped the knife in his pocket and wondered what he was going to need a knife for. But in following few weeks, he used it for opening all kinds of packages. Plastic food wrappers, boxes at work, mail. At first he'd forget it was there and try to use his house key like he'd done forever. Then he'd remember he had a knife, pull it out and cut what needed to be cut. He slowly grew to like having the little knife in his pocket, and sometimes during the day would catch himself slipping a hand into his pocket and feeling it. Before long, he grew so used to having a sharp little knife in his pocket, he wondered how he had got along before it. A new and strange sense of a small measure of self reliance took hold, and Rob found himself looking at knives in the stores. He found online sites that told him what he was carrying was called a 'pen knife' because it had two blades pinned at opposite ends. The little Buck companion became part of his daily routine. Rob tried other kinds of knives in stores, but they all felt too big in his hand and pocket. Sub consciously he started to compare himself with Mr. Styles, wondering if this or that would be what Mr. Styles would carry.
As Rob's senior year progressed, Mr. Styles taught Rob to fish for trout, and tie flies. The high mountain lakes of California held the California Golden Trout, and Rob came to love the taste of fresh trout cooked on a bed of coals. He learned to gut and clean the fish using the little Buck pen knife. By his graduation, he'd become a competent trout fisherman, and had learned to keep the little knife sharp on the bottom of a coffee mug like Mr. Styles had shown him. Then a slow infection took hold. Rob had found himself accumulating pen knives. Going into a large sporting goods store, he saw a large display of Case knives. Rob fell in love with the way the jigged bone felt in his hand. And he was fascinated with the way the patina took hold of the CV blade steel. Gray one day, then blue tinted after cleaning a fish.
Rob became manager of Styles Electronics, and Mr. Styles was a father figure he'd never had. Then came Annie Tanaka. A raven haired Japanese American girl also a gifted computer expert, hired by Mr's Styles to handle the cyber security end of the business. Before long, Annie and Rob were an item, and soon were engaged. Both loved nature, and took hikes in the mountains and desert country. There were cookouts on the beach on cool California nights. Life was good. One day sitting down to a dinner made by Annie, Rob was surprised by Annie putting a colorful tissue wrapped package on the plate in front of him. He looked up questioningly.
"I know how you love those little pen knives, and I saw this in the store and thought you'd like it." she said.
Rob unwrapped the little bundle and discovered a pen knife. But not just any penknife, but a German made Boker with deep crimson red bone scales. It was beautiful, and Rob told her so. The little red Boker pushed the Buck and Case aside for a while, and it made Annie happy to see Rob carry and use it. But like the red handled Boker, the black handled Buck had sentimental feelings that went with it, and it was in a rotation of the three knives. The Buck, the Boker, and the Case were all carried, and all had a place in Rob's pocket. All took turns being a pocket worry stone and everyday tool.
Rob and Annie married, and they settled down to married life. Annie loved to cook her mostly Japanese themed vegetarian stir fried meals, and would work wonders with the fish that Rob caught. She only insisted that Rob clean the fish where he caught them, so fish scales would not end up on her counter tops. This was okay with Rob, and gave him half an excuse to use the razor sharp penknife of the day that was in his pocket. Then came the child. A healthy baby boy, they named Joseph, after Annie's dad, he became the center of their lives. Rob took fatherhood very seriously, as he made a promise to himself that his son would never grow up without a father to learn from. Soon as Rob came home from work, he'd go to Joey's crib and hoist the little boy out and sit with him while Annie made dinner. One night, Joey was on a crying jag, and Annie was trying to get dinner going.
"Try to see if you can stop him from crying, honey, I gotta get the dinner going. Shrimp and noodles in a few minutes." she told him.
Rob set down his bag and lifted the unhappy child out and onto his lap.
"What's the matter, big guy?" he asked his infant son, while offering him different brightly colored toys. Nothing helped, and Joey cried on. HIs diaper was dry, and Rob tried everything he knew from his scant experience on the job had taught him. Finally, in desperation, he waved the bright red Boker penknife in front of his son. The crying little boy fell silent immediately as his eyes fixed on the red handled Boker. Surprised, Rob moved the knife left, and the little boys eyes followed. He moved the knife right, and again the little boys eyes tracked the penknife like radar. Not wanting to risk the silence, Rob handed the penknife to the child, closed of course. The boy took the penknife in his chubby little fist and looked at it, then shook it, and finally teethed on it. Just then, Annie stuck her head in the door.
"Dinner's ready! How did you get him to stop cry " she stopped talking and stared at her young son." What the heck is he got there? Oh my God, you gave him your knife?" she asked him incredulously.
Rob shrugged.
"He can't open it and he's not crying. You want me to take it back?" he said.
Annie thought for a moment.
"No, the quiet is a pleasant change. I guess I'll just never understand the male mind. " she said and disappeared off to the kitchen.
Rob spoke to his son in a quiet voice.
"Okay, lets go eat. Your mother is really trying and it's really not that bad. But I promise you, we'll sneak out now and then for a burger and fries or a good chill dog. " he said, then added "And I'm going to put that knife aside, and it's gonna be yours when you get old enough. And I promise you we're gonna fish and camp and do all the things a father and son should do. Cross my heart!"
The infant just giggled and waved his chubby little fist, still tightly clutching the blood red handled Boker penknife.
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. Good read for sure
