Carl, my Grandpa was a very interesting man. He lived in Southern Illinois. Hard on the people he loved. He was either hot or cold, all the time. With strangers, he was the most gregarious person I have ever met. He was the kind of guy who would walk up to anybody and say, "Howdy, I'm BJ Lance from Salem, Illinois" - he did this in the US and when my Dad was stationed overseas he did it all over Europe. Everybody loved him. He always had a joke or a card trick or something to show you or give you. He served in WWII...parachuted out of an exploding plane and lost most of his hearing and sense of taste. He wore his silkworm tie tack with pride. He grew up farming. My great-grandfather - an exceeding kind man by all accounts, he died shortly after I was born - was a sharecropper. When he came back from the war, Grandpa took Uncle Sam up on the GI bill and went to college - a courageous thing to do given his upbringing and schooling prior. He was a shop teacher for many years and worshipped by his students who he stayed in touch with. He was remarkably good with his hands. Especially when working with wood. It was something I didn't really appreciate until it was too late. He was a very talented carpenter.
He always farmed on some scale, teaching or not. He was not a 'sittin' still' kind of guy. He loved machines...tractors, motorcycles, cars, trucks, boats. He had a big old Harley and a Honda Rebel 250. He taught me to ride on the 250 by telling me to pin the throttle and dump the clutch. I was 12 or thirteen and ended up with the bike on my chest. He was thoughtless and rough when he wasn't busy being extremely kind and generous. He did not read much, but he memorized poems and insisted we do the same. He kept a daily journal, but it was not a narrative. He listed the things he had done that day, eaten, temperature. Pretty basic. He took a 15 minute nap every day. Sat down, slept, and awoke 15 mins later to the minute with no alarm.
He was retired by the time I remember spending time with him, but along with teaching shop and farming, he did odd jobs for people and I think made some money selling his creations. He was not rich by any means.
He was stone bald and wore a 'trucker cap' with the name of a feed store or something on it every day. Collared shirt with light blue jeans and boat shoes. I have no idea why he chose boat shoes. No one in his circle wore them. Boots would have made more sense. I asked my Mom about it recently and she didn't have any idea either. That choice cost him when he dropped his Harley when he was in his 80s.
He was absolutely the most stubborn man that ever lived. He did not bend. He liked to do things the hard way. Like drive from Illinois to their trailer in Florida non-stop. Same on the bike. Because of this, aging was hard for him. My Grandma was the sweetest woman...when she died a good bit of my Grandpa did, too. He lived long enough to see my wedding. Doctors, friends, everyone said he shouldn't make the trip. Of course, he did.
He was a good, but impatient fisherman. My Paupa was a patient and graceful angler. He liked to fly fish for trout. My Grandpa liked jigs and breem and fish fries. But he caught fish, no doubt. He had stopped hunting by the time I came around, but we liked to shoot guns out by the trash heap.
If you ever go to southern Illinois you see a lot of men that look like my Grandpa. He definitely fit the stereotype physically, but he didn't give a damn for social conventions. He was very unique. I loved him very much. When he was cruel it truly did hurt him as much as his victim, and I never understood it. It was always about something inconsequential that got blown out of proportion. But the good outweighed the bad. And the good was very good.
That Case must have been his Sunday knife because he did not baby his knives. The other ones I have of his are ground down something fierce. More than you asked for, but he was not a man that can be easily explained...and he deserves more than a sound bite. He was one of a kind. I am lucky enough to have inherited some of his good character traits and few of his bad. I am stubborn as hell, but I am gentle with the emotions of my loved ones. Partly because I saw the effect his moods had on those around him.
My favorite memories of him involve motorcycles and 'finding goodies'. When I was little we would walk and pick up bolts, rubber bands, anything we came across. Treasures.
Anyway, I have rambled long enough. If you ever lived anywhere near St. Louis you probably met him.
Your grandfather's knife is a beauty. great shape. Out of curiosity, what did he do for a living?
Carl.
