Mistwalker
Gold Member
- Joined
- Dec 22, 2007
- Messages
- 19,051
Today I woke up, fixed a glass of tea, and sat down at my computer. I unlocked my screen saver, hit my browser and was wished a happy birthday by my computer. The next hour or so was a meandering wander down memory lane, looking back on the half century of my life. Remembering the great times in my childhood in Florida, and then all the peaks and valleys of the mad roller coaster teenage years that followed. I am very fortunate in that there are many reminders sitting here on my desk that remind me of the full extent to which my life has improved since then. Pictures of my family, gifts from my wife and daughters, my favorite camera to date, check stubs from recently deposited royalty checks for knives I have designed, and tools made by some of the best craftsmen and best people I have met. As I neared the more recent areas of that memory lane I thought about the day I met Andy, and some of the things he said, and couldn't help but smile.
This photo is the only surviving photo of my teen years. The day was Saturday July 9th, 1977. I had just turned twelve, and had just gotten a new camera, the only one I would ever have that used self-developing film. My face was still marked up from the day before, the first fight I got in at North Dallas Middle School. I would look much worse after the next one which would come that following Monday. It would be my first experience with the gang mentality, my first understanding of how much a propane torch flame on bare skin hurts, and the first time someone would earnestly try to kill me.
By the time I met Andy I had seen a lot of darkness, and I was likely more familiar with this knife than most military personal, having used one to survive the last four years of being a minor, and on into adulthood. After my mother was murdered by my stepfather, and I had to defend myself with lethal force. Then dealt with life on the streets and in urban woods until adulthood.
One of the first things Andy said to me after seeing the knife I carried at the time, which was another mass produced knife purpose-designed for war and black bladed, was that life is too short to carry an ugly knife. I would ponder that statement for days afterward, and remember bygone days in my youth when my earliest studies in survival and bushcraft were from more of a primitive living perspective. I would end up talking more to Andy in messages after that, exchanging thoughts and philosophies.
In a short while I would get the chance to test a knife that would have a very profound affect on my perspective. I put that knife through as many tests as I could think of multiple times over for a couple of years.
Since that time I have gone from my wife and I having large and small versions of tactical knives as regular carry knives on our hikes to my wife, both daughters (though my oldest daughter's Bushboot is at her house) , and myself carrying these knives for our edc-s. Though I guess it is obvious from my sheath some old thoughts remain unchanged.
Though in a testament to the fact that once opened Pandora's box cannot be closed again, somethings I simply cannot let go of. I have, however, come to agree with Andy's sentiment that life is just too to carry an ugly knife. So I now have a different version of the knife I was carrying the day I met Andy, made by hand by a friend of Ben Baker (the original designer of the SOG Bowie), to Ben's original specs, with no black coating. That said, I think it's pretty clear which one sees the most use
Life is such a curious thing. At one time I was just sure I would never survive till adulthood, much less be where I am today. If I make it to the end of this summer, I will have celebrated this summer: My 50th birthday, my 10th anniversary of marrying my best friend, my oldest daughter's 22nd birthday, my youngest daughter's 10th birthday, and my grandson's 1st.
Here at the end of this long walk down memory lane, he point is driven home to me that today is a good day indeed. And I would just like to say thank you Andy, for the role you played in me reaching this point. True friends have a value that just cannot be measured.
This photo is the only surviving photo of my teen years. The day was Saturday July 9th, 1977. I had just turned twelve, and had just gotten a new camera, the only one I would ever have that used self-developing film. My face was still marked up from the day before, the first fight I got in at North Dallas Middle School. I would look much worse after the next one which would come that following Monday. It would be my first experience with the gang mentality, my first understanding of how much a propane torch flame on bare skin hurts, and the first time someone would earnestly try to kill me.
By the time I met Andy I had seen a lot of darkness, and I was likely more familiar with this knife than most military personal, having used one to survive the last four years of being a minor, and on into adulthood. After my mother was murdered by my stepfather, and I had to defend myself with lethal force. Then dealt with life on the streets and in urban woods until adulthood.
One of the first things Andy said to me after seeing the knife I carried at the time, which was another mass produced knife purpose-designed for war and black bladed, was that life is too short to carry an ugly knife. I would ponder that statement for days afterward, and remember bygone days in my youth when my earliest studies in survival and bushcraft were from more of a primitive living perspective. I would end up talking more to Andy in messages after that, exchanging thoughts and philosophies.
In a short while I would get the chance to test a knife that would have a very profound affect on my perspective. I put that knife through as many tests as I could think of multiple times over for a couple of years.
Since that time I have gone from my wife and I having large and small versions of tactical knives as regular carry knives on our hikes to my wife, both daughters (though my oldest daughter's Bushboot is at her house) , and myself carrying these knives for our edc-s. Though I guess it is obvious from my sheath some old thoughts remain unchanged.
Though in a testament to the fact that once opened Pandora's box cannot be closed again, somethings I simply cannot let go of. I have, however, come to agree with Andy's sentiment that life is just too to carry an ugly knife. So I now have a different version of the knife I was carrying the day I met Andy, made by hand by a friend of Ben Baker (the original designer of the SOG Bowie), to Ben's original specs, with no black coating. That said, I think it's pretty clear which one sees the most use
Life is such a curious thing. At one time I was just sure I would never survive till adulthood, much less be where I am today. If I make it to the end of this summer, I will have celebrated this summer: My 50th birthday, my 10th anniversary of marrying my best friend, my oldest daughter's 22nd birthday, my youngest daughter's 10th birthday, and my grandson's 1st.
Here at the end of this long walk down memory lane, he point is driven home to me that today is a good day indeed. And I would just like to say thank you Andy, for the role you played in me reaching this point. True friends have a value that just cannot be measured.
