- Joined
- Dec 1, 2016
- Messages
- 11,033
There is something rather special about this GAW, and to me it has less to do with the giveaway and more about the sentiment behind it. First, let me start off by offering my condolences and I hope that you are quickly on the mend, Glenn. And thank you for your service!
My story is rather interesting, though some might say convoluted. I will try to keep it short and simple as I am sure I could get carried away fairly easily. When I first joined the forums here, I kicked things off by posting in what, I was soon to discover, is called "The Porch". I posted a pic of a small, inexpensive folder that was my Dad's in the "What traditional are ya toting today?" thread. With it I posted some sentimental thoughts regarding the recent passing of my Dad and that, though the knife pictured isn't much of a knife, it was something of his that I could carry with me always.
My Dad wasn't my biological father, my two younger brothers and I were taken in by him and his wife when I was 5 years old and were adopted soon after. We became a part of a rather large family with my brothers, myself, and those that came after us comprising the total of 21 children that my folks brought up and nurtured. Keep in mind that only 4 of these kids were theirs biologically. I could not imagine where I would be now if I had not been adopted, as my biological folks had somewhat lost themselves to their addictions at the time. My brothers and I were given a second crack at life and I am ever grateful for it.
I am the goofy looking blond kid on the far left.
My Dad was stoic, a man of action and few words. He served in the Navy and was a Vietnam vet. He never talked about his military service and it was usually taboo to even bring it up. The only info I was able to glean from Mom was that he was involved with shallow water craft and would often be sent up the various rivers where he was subjected to a lot of horrible stuff. At the end of his second enlistment, he was offered a job doing something that involved oceanography but as it would take him away from his family even more, he declined and opted to remain home with his wife and children and ultimately provide a safe home and a second chance for those of us they eventually adopted.
A jack of all trades sort, my Dad rarely hired folks to do work that he felt he could do himself and being on a 40 acre farm, there was always things to be done. He always carried a pocket knife and he always put it to work. In these days, it is relatively unheard of for someone to work a knife to death, but my Dad would certainly be the exception, yet also a testament to times past. When he passed, I went through his "knife drawer". It was a rather large assortment of worn, broken knives (he never threw anything away). You also would not see much in the way of stainless and I think I found only one knife that was a lock back. Otherwise, they were all high carbon steel traditional pocket knives in various sizes, of varying quality, and all worked to death with very few exceptions.
We had a rocky relationship when I was a teenager, mostly because we were terrible at communicating and I was a little on the rebellious side, nothing too serious though. It wasn't until after I had moved out and became a responsible contributing member of society that I started to really see and appreciate the great man that I consider my father. Always the man of action and not words, he was ever there to help when I needed it. When I got suckered into a bad loan due to my naivete at the time, he promptly went in to the creditors office, paid the loan off (he abhorred paying interest on anything and had a saintly credit score), and gave me the opportunity to learn from the whole debacle. He adored my wife and was always there to help if I happened to be out of town or caught up in work. Not the one to be overly affectionate, he still had a soft spot for his many grandchildren, and my kids were no exception.
I love my Dad, and I miss him terribly, our large family is not the same without him. Colon cancer took him away from us a little over a year and half ago, not a day goes by without me thinking of him though. I would not be the man I am today without his big heart and kind, generous spirit.
My Dad, younger brother, and myself shortly before he passed.
Interestingly enough, some years ago, I came into contact with my biological father. Though the relationship has been slow in building (he can't forgive himself for past wrongs), progress is being made. He turned his life around, and though he has his struggles, it has been good to get to know him better. A source of interest and much discussion between us is his love for traditional cutlery and his sizable Case and Queen collection. Though he will not be able to replace my Dad, I hope that he and I can continue to build a relationship that is 30+ years overdue.
Almost forgot this was a giveaway. If I am fortunate enough, I would like to be considered for the Queen, Ontario, or Schrade. The Queen and Schrade would have been knives my Dad would have carried and the Ontario would have been one he would have gone camping with, for sure. As lovely and special as the Bruckmann is, my Dad never carried anything with a corkscrew, and I am sure there are others who would appreciate it far more than I could.
So ends my incredibly long winded post.... My apologies, I probably got a bit carried away. Thank you for such a special GAW, Glenn. Hoping for a speedy and continued recovery!
My story is rather interesting, though some might say convoluted. I will try to keep it short and simple as I am sure I could get carried away fairly easily. When I first joined the forums here, I kicked things off by posting in what, I was soon to discover, is called "The Porch". I posted a pic of a small, inexpensive folder that was my Dad's in the "What traditional are ya toting today?" thread. With it I posted some sentimental thoughts regarding the recent passing of my Dad and that, though the knife pictured isn't much of a knife, it was something of his that I could carry with me always.
My Dad wasn't my biological father, my two younger brothers and I were taken in by him and his wife when I was 5 years old and were adopted soon after. We became a part of a rather large family with my brothers, myself, and those that came after us comprising the total of 21 children that my folks brought up and nurtured. Keep in mind that only 4 of these kids were theirs biologically. I could not imagine where I would be now if I had not been adopted, as my biological folks had somewhat lost themselves to their addictions at the time. My brothers and I were given a second crack at life and I am ever grateful for it.
I am the goofy looking blond kid on the far left.
My Dad was stoic, a man of action and few words. He served in the Navy and was a Vietnam vet. He never talked about his military service and it was usually taboo to even bring it up. The only info I was able to glean from Mom was that he was involved with shallow water craft and would often be sent up the various rivers where he was subjected to a lot of horrible stuff. At the end of his second enlistment, he was offered a job doing something that involved oceanography but as it would take him away from his family even more, he declined and opted to remain home with his wife and children and ultimately provide a safe home and a second chance for those of us they eventually adopted.
A jack of all trades sort, my Dad rarely hired folks to do work that he felt he could do himself and being on a 40 acre farm, there was always things to be done. He always carried a pocket knife and he always put it to work. In these days, it is relatively unheard of for someone to work a knife to death, but my Dad would certainly be the exception, yet also a testament to times past. When he passed, I went through his "knife drawer". It was a rather large assortment of worn, broken knives (he never threw anything away). You also would not see much in the way of stainless and I think I found only one knife that was a lock back. Otherwise, they were all high carbon steel traditional pocket knives in various sizes, of varying quality, and all worked to death with very few exceptions.
We had a rocky relationship when I was a teenager, mostly because we were terrible at communicating and I was a little on the rebellious side, nothing too serious though. It wasn't until after I had moved out and became a responsible contributing member of society that I started to really see and appreciate the great man that I consider my father. Always the man of action and not words, he was ever there to help when I needed it. When I got suckered into a bad loan due to my naivete at the time, he promptly went in to the creditors office, paid the loan off (he abhorred paying interest on anything and had a saintly credit score), and gave me the opportunity to learn from the whole debacle. He adored my wife and was always there to help if I happened to be out of town or caught up in work. Not the one to be overly affectionate, he still had a soft spot for his many grandchildren, and my kids were no exception.
I love my Dad, and I miss him terribly, our large family is not the same without him. Colon cancer took him away from us a little over a year and half ago, not a day goes by without me thinking of him though. I would not be the man I am today without his big heart and kind, generous spirit.
My Dad, younger brother, and myself shortly before he passed.
Interestingly enough, some years ago, I came into contact with my biological father. Though the relationship has been slow in building (he can't forgive himself for past wrongs), progress is being made. He turned his life around, and though he has his struggles, it has been good to get to know him better. A source of interest and much discussion between us is his love for traditional cutlery and his sizable Case and Queen collection. Though he will not be able to replace my Dad, I hope that he and I can continue to build a relationship that is 30+ years overdue.
Almost forgot this was a giveaway. If I am fortunate enough, I would like to be considered for the Queen, Ontario, or Schrade. The Queen and Schrade would have been knives my Dad would have carried and the Ontario would have been one he would have gone camping with, for sure. As lovely and special as the Bruckmann is, my Dad never carried anything with a corkscrew, and I am sure there are others who would appreciate it far more than I could.
So ends my incredibly long winded post.... My apologies, I probably got a bit carried away. Thank you for such a special GAW, Glenn. Hoping for a speedy and continued recovery!
I don't think I realized this until now, but the most treasured gift I have from him is the baseball mitt that he had from about the time he was in college until I was a teenager. It is so broken in that it pretty much catches by itself. One day when we were playing catch when I was in high school, he asked me if I wanted to trade mitts and I've had it ever since. 25 or 30 years later I still have it. I should give it a good conditioning and tell him that I still treasure it.
Wow! Thank you Glennbad! I really appreciate it, and all you do around the porch. This has been a moving opportunity to learn about the people here on the porch. Thank you for hosting this.