I grew up on a family farm here in central Iowa, and I was pressed into very hard work at a very young age. That meant carrying bales out to fat cattle (steer and heifers being fed to go to market), and stock cows (used for breeding). Those small square bales were held tightly together with two strings of twine. A 75 pound kid breaking 50 pound bales was pretty hard to do, and I wanted to be a "man" in Dad's eyes. I didn't want any help with those bales.
The only efficient way to break them up was a sharp pocket knife to cut those strings. I could then carry and break as many as dad did, assuring me that I was just as tough as he was. :roll eyes:
I carried that Old Timer three bladed stockman from the age of 10 until I was thirty years old. I'm 56 now, but I still remember overhearing Dad occasionally say to someone in need of a knife to "Go ask Jamie. His knife is always sharp."
I still remember that pride to this day. And sometimes, Dad will still ask if he can borrow my knife.......