It was one of those rare perfect days. The sun shone down out of a bright blue sky, and made a field of sparkling diamonds on the surface of the lake. The old man and the boy sat in the shade of a willow tree, watching the lines from thier bamboo poles in the water. Once in a while, the line would twitch, and the old man would tell his grandson to wait...wait...now, set the hook!
The boy would yank back on the pole and a thrashing blue gill or even a Yellow Perch would flop up on the bank. Soon a nice stringer of fish was at hand, and it was time for the job of cleaning. They took out thier pocket knives and got set to go to work. The boy loved his times with his grandfather. They shot the old .22 rifle, fished, and talked about everything. Sometimes the boy thought it would be a great idea to not go to school and just hang out with his grandfather and learn everything from him.
Today they were just getting ready to clean the fish, when the old man dug the battered Prince Albert tobacco tin out of his overalls pocket. He shook out two beer bottle caps that had a hole punched in the top, and he handed one to his grandson.
"Now pup, go fetch us a couple sticks, and I'll show ya how to make the best fish scaler around."
The boy got a couple of sticks, and the old man showed him how to take his knife and whittle a flat spot on one side. The boy took his Case peanut that the old man had given him on his last birthday, and looked at what his grandad was doing, then did his best to copy it. The two of them worked away for a bit, and when they had both sticks whittled with a nice flat spot, the old man handed his grandson a wood screw and showed him how to fix the bottle cap to the stick. The boy watched in rapt attention as the old man took a Sears 4-way keychain screw driver and used it to fix the bottle cap to the stick. He handed the little screw driver to his grandson and watched as the boy did the same.
Soon fish scales were flying off and the boy wondered at how the bottle cap did such a great job. Then it was time for the dirty work. He hesitated for a moment.
"What's wrong pup, don't want to get your knife dirty?" The old man asked with a grin.
"Well, I guess kind of." the boy said. "Is it gonna hurt it?"
"Naw, after we're done we'll just swish it around in the water and get most of the mess out. We'll clean 'em up good when we get home. Okay?"
"Won't the water start it rusting?" the young boy asked
"Oh, I suppose if we leave it to Christmas, but we're not gonna do that. Now stick the knife in up by the jaw like I showed ya, and run it back to the vent."
He watched as the boy cut into the fish, and worked carefully. The thin flat grind blade of the peanut sliced through all the way down the fish, and the boy opened the fish and scraped the guts out into the water. The boy worked carefully because he had respect for the sharp little knife. Only a month before, he'd cut himself with it. His grandpa asked him what he learned, and the boy told him he'd never cut towards himself again.
They worked side by side, and when they were done they dipped thier knives in the lake and wiped them on the grass.
"Look grandpa, my knife blade is getting grey like yours."
The old man compared thier two knives, and nodded. The boys peanut was starting to get a nice patina like he had on his Texas Jack.
"Yep, by the end of the summer your knife is going to look like a real outdoorsmens knife."
The boy studied the blue-grey mottled patina, and looked a little worried.
"Grandpa, what if I wear it out?"
"Well, your supposed to do that pup. That knife is a tool. Of course you want to take care of it like you should a good tool, but your supposed to use it, and someday lots of years from now, you'll have to get a new one."
"But I really love this knife, grandpa, I want it to last forever."
"Ain't nuthin forever youngster. Sooner or later everything wears out. One day many, many, years from now, the blades will be worn down skinny, there'll be wobble in them, and it'll be time for a new knife. You'll have lots of memories in that knife by then, so you'll put it away, and start making new memories with a new knife. Heck, think of all the fun it will be when you go shopping and pick out a new knife. Remember what fun it was getting that one?"
The boy thought back to the day in early spring, when he and his grandpa had went to the hardware store with the Case display, and he handled all sorts of knives. Trappers, barlows, small stockmen, then the peanut. The boy remembered how the boxy little peanut had felt so perfect in his hand, and grandpa had bought it for him on the spot.
"But what if they don't have any peanuts anymore?" he asked his grandpa.
"Well, you may not want a peanut then. Things change, and we change as we go down the road of life. What is good for us now may not fit so well in ten years. We go through stages in life. By the time you need a new knife, you may want a stockman, or maybe you'll have grown and want a nice hefty barlow handle to hang onto. Or maybe you may even want a sodbuster. You'll just have to see what fits your life when you get to that stage."
The boy thought about what his grandfather had said, and he wiped the little peanut again on the grass.
"Is that why you have those other knives in the cigar box?" asked the grandson.
"Yep, mostly. A few are old knives that were retired, but have lots of memories. They're kind of a scrap book for the mind. I hold them in my hand and I remember the hunt I was on out in Colorado, or the fishing trip down in Florida. One or two of them are old retired knives from other stages of my life. They're all different, but they all were important to me at different times. But times change, and we have to change with them."
They were walking back to the car now, along the wooded path from the lakeshore to the parking lot. The old man gestured back the way they'd come, then to where they were going.
"It's good to look back on where we've been, like today. We can look back at the lake as we leave and put it all away in our memories for later. But we also have to look forward to see where we're going. "
The boy would yank back on the pole and a thrashing blue gill or even a Yellow Perch would flop up on the bank. Soon a nice stringer of fish was at hand, and it was time for the job of cleaning. They took out thier pocket knives and got set to go to work. The boy loved his times with his grandfather. They shot the old .22 rifle, fished, and talked about everything. Sometimes the boy thought it would be a great idea to not go to school and just hang out with his grandfather and learn everything from him.
Today they were just getting ready to clean the fish, when the old man dug the battered Prince Albert tobacco tin out of his overalls pocket. He shook out two beer bottle caps that had a hole punched in the top, and he handed one to his grandson.
"Now pup, go fetch us a couple sticks, and I'll show ya how to make the best fish scaler around."
The boy got a couple of sticks, and the old man showed him how to take his knife and whittle a flat spot on one side. The boy took his Case peanut that the old man had given him on his last birthday, and looked at what his grandad was doing, then did his best to copy it. The two of them worked away for a bit, and when they had both sticks whittled with a nice flat spot, the old man handed his grandson a wood screw and showed him how to fix the bottle cap to the stick. The boy watched in rapt attention as the old man took a Sears 4-way keychain screw driver and used it to fix the bottle cap to the stick. He handed the little screw driver to his grandson and watched as the boy did the same.
Soon fish scales were flying off and the boy wondered at how the bottle cap did such a great job. Then it was time for the dirty work. He hesitated for a moment.
"What's wrong pup, don't want to get your knife dirty?" The old man asked with a grin.
"Well, I guess kind of." the boy said. "Is it gonna hurt it?"
"Naw, after we're done we'll just swish it around in the water and get most of the mess out. We'll clean 'em up good when we get home. Okay?"
"Won't the water start it rusting?" the young boy asked
"Oh, I suppose if we leave it to Christmas, but we're not gonna do that. Now stick the knife in up by the jaw like I showed ya, and run it back to the vent."
He watched as the boy cut into the fish, and worked carefully. The thin flat grind blade of the peanut sliced through all the way down the fish, and the boy opened the fish and scraped the guts out into the water. The boy worked carefully because he had respect for the sharp little knife. Only a month before, he'd cut himself with it. His grandpa asked him what he learned, and the boy told him he'd never cut towards himself again.
They worked side by side, and when they were done they dipped thier knives in the lake and wiped them on the grass.
"Look grandpa, my knife blade is getting grey like yours."
The old man compared thier two knives, and nodded. The boys peanut was starting to get a nice patina like he had on his Texas Jack.
"Yep, by the end of the summer your knife is going to look like a real outdoorsmens knife."
The boy studied the blue-grey mottled patina, and looked a little worried.
"Grandpa, what if I wear it out?"
"Well, your supposed to do that pup. That knife is a tool. Of course you want to take care of it like you should a good tool, but your supposed to use it, and someday lots of years from now, you'll have to get a new one."
"But I really love this knife, grandpa, I want it to last forever."
"Ain't nuthin forever youngster. Sooner or later everything wears out. One day many, many, years from now, the blades will be worn down skinny, there'll be wobble in them, and it'll be time for a new knife. You'll have lots of memories in that knife by then, so you'll put it away, and start making new memories with a new knife. Heck, think of all the fun it will be when you go shopping and pick out a new knife. Remember what fun it was getting that one?"
The boy thought back to the day in early spring, when he and his grandpa had went to the hardware store with the Case display, and he handled all sorts of knives. Trappers, barlows, small stockmen, then the peanut. The boy remembered how the boxy little peanut had felt so perfect in his hand, and grandpa had bought it for him on the spot.
"But what if they don't have any peanuts anymore?" he asked his grandpa.
"Well, you may not want a peanut then. Things change, and we change as we go down the road of life. What is good for us now may not fit so well in ten years. We go through stages in life. By the time you need a new knife, you may want a stockman, or maybe you'll have grown and want a nice hefty barlow handle to hang onto. Or maybe you may even want a sodbuster. You'll just have to see what fits your life when you get to that stage."
The boy thought about what his grandfather had said, and he wiped the little peanut again on the grass.
"Is that why you have those other knives in the cigar box?" asked the grandson.
"Yep, mostly. A few are old knives that were retired, but have lots of memories. They're kind of a scrap book for the mind. I hold them in my hand and I remember the hunt I was on out in Colorado, or the fishing trip down in Florida. One or two of them are old retired knives from other stages of my life. They're all different, but they all were important to me at different times. But times change, and we have to change with them."
They were walking back to the car now, along the wooded path from the lakeshore to the parking lot. The old man gestured back the way they'd come, then to where they were going.
"It's good to look back on where we've been, like today. We can look back at the lake as we leave and put it all away in our memories for later. But we also have to look forward to see where we're going. "
I've got spots on my purdy knife blade!" steel snob crowd. 
