"Why do you carry that old pocketknife"

Halfneck

Halfneck

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Jun 30, 2005
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"Why are you using that old pocketknife Dad?"

Wearing cargo shorts and a plaid short sleeve shirt in the early spring weather, the man was busy tying a new hook to the boy's fishing pole. Brown eyes under a salt & pepper flat top looked up "How's that, boy?" he replied.

All 4 feet, 10 inches of brown hair, brown eyes, skinny arms & legs, packed into shorts & a t-shirt, stopped investigating the tackle box to turn back towards his father "With all the knives you own, why are you using that little jackknife?"

Cinch knot tied, the man snipped off the extra string, then regarded the old Case jackknife with a smile. Rubbing the worn brown jigged bone for a second, he then closed the blade and put it in his right front pocket. Then smiling at his son "Because it makes me happy."

Letting out a sigh, with a little bit of an eye roll "No really Dad" asks the boy.

Lead weight squeezed in place above the hook with some needle nose pliers, the man then places a red & white bobber about one & a half feet up from the hook. "We're here for you to learn how to fish boy, are you paying attention?" asked the man.

Bouncing from foot to foot "Yes Dad, I'm watching, 5 loops around, then in & out for a cinch knot, I got it. Are you going to tell me or not?"

Placing the needle nose pliers back in the tackle box, the man picks up a glass mason jar. Plucking out a catawba worm, his practiced hands proceed to bait the hook. Squinting out over the calm, blue water of the pond from the grassy shore, the man answers with a smile "Well I like to save my big knives for when I go shark fishing boy."

"DAD!..." the boy blurts out with his hands on his hips.

Chuckling the man turns back to regard his son "OK boy, but it really is because it makes me happy. No, don't interrupt and I'll tell you why." Reaching into his right front pocket, he pulls out the old Case jackknife and holds it out to his son. Taking it in his hand gingerly, the boy says "Thank You" like he was taught in Scouts, and his Dad lets go. The boy notices that while the brown jigged bone is very grippy, all the sharp points have been worn down from use. Even the shiny Case shield & pins are worn smooth. Opening the main blade, it snicked smoothly into place. While looking at the blue-grey blade, the edge catches the sunlight and seems to glow. Knowing how his Dad liked to keep his knives, the boy knew it was as sharp as a razor. Closing the blade, the boy hands the old Case jackknife back to his Dad.

Taking the old Case jackknife with a proper "Thank you", the man continued. "This old Case jackknife belonged to your Poppa. And while he had a few others, this was the one he almost always had on him. In fact he had that same knife with him when I was around your age and he was teaching me to fish. I remember buying him a fancier knife for Father's Day one time. He looked at it, admired it, praised it, and thanked me with a hug. On our very next fishing trip I looked over to see him still using this old Case jackknife. When I asked him why he wasn't carrying the new knife I got him, he just told me "Well I got to break it in boy" and went back to fishing. I don't think that other knife even got used. Truth is, him and this old Case jackknife were just comfortable together. When your Poppa passed, Nanna handed me a small Case box. Inside it was this here knife and a short note saying "Take care of it boy, and try to take it out fishing sometime".

Reverently placing the old Case jackknife back in his right front pocket, the man muttered something about "Allergies" and rubbed his eyes for a second. Picking up the fishing pole, the man turned towards his son "So sitting out here teaching you to fish with the same pocketknife my Dad had when he taught me just brings back a lot of good memories. It makes me happy."

The boy seemed to think on it a bit "That's a real special jackknife Dad."

"Yes it is boy, yes it is." He then handed the fishing pole over to the boy and said "Now let's see if we can catch us some fish instead of a tree shall we."

"OK Dad" smiled the boy


"Dad!"

Lost in thought, the boy - now a man, looks up from tying the hook on the fishing pole "Sorry boy, what did you say?"

Curious, the boy repeats his question "I asked why are you using that old-timey pocketknife?"

Looking down at the old Case jackknife in his hand, the father just smiles, then looks at his boy "It makes me happy."



Hope y'all enjoyed my humble story attempt. Spent most of my free time (and a little bit more) while at work fiddling around with it. I have a new found respect for Carl/jackknife and his story telling.

Thanks - Pat.
 
I have my own grandfathers Barlow. He was a man's man. He quit a job at Boeing (a very well paying job) back in the day to go home and care for his own father (my great grandfather), saving the family farm. He worked on the farm, raised and slaughtered their own livestock. He also ran an auto shop for much of his adult life, until he was pinned beneath a car while all the other employees were at lunch. They came back and lifted the car from him, and he was too tough to go to the DR's office for 3 days. When he turned green he finally went. The car had ruptured his intestines, and the major blood vessels to his hips. They had to remove most of his intestines, and eventually had to replace his hips (they rotted out from no blood supply). He walked around like that for years until the hips literally disintegrated in their sockets.

He was a golden gloves boxer in his younger years, and had hands with a grip like pliers. They were like shaking rough stones!

He would wash the tractor grease from his hands with gasoline, and clean and trim his nails with the same pocket knife I have now.
 
Enjoyed your story, Pat!
(Your post was very interesting to read as well, Bigfattyt)
 
Great story Pat, thank you!

Everytime I read stories like yours I remember the day my dad gave me his Barlow. :)
 
Excellently done, Pat!:thumbup::thumbup::thumbup::thumbup::thumbup:

I have no problem rating it a five thumb up!

Carl.
 
Bigfattyt said:
I have my own grandfathers Barlow. He was a man's man. He quit a job at Boeing (a very well paying job) back in the day to go home and care for his own father (my great grandfather), saving the family farm. He worked on the farm, raised and slaughtered their own livestock. He also ran an auto shop for much of his adult life, until he was pinned beneath a car while all the other employees were at lunch. They came back and lifted the car from him, and he was too tough to go to the DR's office for 3 days. When he turned green he finally went. The car had ruptured his intestines, and the major blood vessels to his hips. They had to remove most of his intestines, and eventually had to replace his hips (they rotted out from no blood supply). He walked around like that for years until the hips literally disintegrated in their sockets.

He was a golden gloves boxer in his younger years, and had hands with a grip like pliers. They were like shaking rough stones!

He would wash the tractor grease from his hands with gasoline, and clean and trim his nails with the same pocket knife I have now.
Click to expand...

Bigfatty---minus the injury from the car pinning your great Grandfather, this sums up my Dad to a "T"---thanks for that. My Dad to this day can squeeze your hand so hard you can feel it hours later :thumbup:

Pat, what a great story and a very enjoyable way to start my day---I may even try and sneak out to go fishing later ;)

Thanks,

Paul
 
Good story buddy. I have lots of good memories of my father but learning to fish from him isn't one of them. He had... how to put this politely, too much Marine in him to have the patience to fish OR teach someone to fish. He did take me out occasionally and let me figure it out on my own though. :)

Will
 
Thanks for sharing that great story. "It makes me happy" - thats the best reason to carry any pocket knife.
 
Good story, it reminds me of my grandfather. He really liked to fish, and he always had a traditional pocket knife on him.
 
Loved those words. Brought back some happy memories. Reminds me of why my recent interest in traditionals.
 
That brought me right back to days spent with my grandfather, and my father fishing...
Thanks :)
 
Great story. It brought back good memories of fishing with Mr. Pierce that lived next door to my grandmother. Years later I ended up with his 8ot that he bought after I went in the Army. He was a good man we either fished hunted or played horseshoes the good old days.
Thanks for rekindling the memories. You and jackknife always do.
Dang allergies
 
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