A passion for pocket knives that comes from family
Knives have been described as “the ultimate tool,” and for the sportsman, handyman, gardener, tinkerer, whittler, or just plain piddler, being without one is somewhat akin to being naked.
Those who carry them reach into their pockets or belt untold times daily. Just the other day, for example, I made some mental notes each time my little Case three-blader was put to use.
I’ve suckered tomatoes, cut some plastic away from pots in which I had earlier rooted previous tomato suckers for late planting, sliced a tomato to enjoy while in the garden, removed a few broken or dead twigs from blueberries, probed a briar from a fingertip, cleaned fingernails left dirty by a session in the garden, scraped dirt around a cotter pin holding a small bolt to the driveshaft of a garden tiller, whittled a peg to stick in a hole made by carpenter bees in my mail box post, cut sections of binder’s twine to tie up tomatoes and opened up four envelopes in the day’s mail.
Not a day goes by when similarly varied uses don’t occur. But for everyone else, I strongly suspect that pocket knives are far less popular and allowable these days. Far fewer males carry them than was the case two generations ago.
One of my fondest boyhood memories involves observation of old men sitting in an area near the town square known as “Loafer’s Glory.” They discussed every subject under the sun, but most of all wielded pocket knives. An incredibly sharp edge was taken for granted. If a knife wouldn’t shave the hair off a fellow’s arm, he was considered a disgrace to the community. Old-timers who weren’t playing checkers, would be engaged in whittling. Sometimes they just shaved long, smooth strips off a piece of wood or carefully readied an apple for eating with a single curling twist of peel, but more frequently their pocket knives found employment in carving out gewgaws, intricately detailed figures of animals or toys such as whammy diddles.
Most of all, the old fellows jawed about the comparative merits of brands and designs of knives, debated various blades, argued about the best size or made a case for the number of blades a knife should have. Knife swapping was also popular and went on more or less constantly.
These days, the perception of knives have changed. Knives aren’t allowed in most places The other day, I had a memorable experience that hit close to home. . I went to the local Social Security office to complete paperwork. A genial black man with a big smile met me at the door and said: “You look like a fellow who might carry a pocket knife.”
I mistakenly took his remark as a compliment and joyfully replied. “You’re right. As a matter of fact I’ve got two of them — a Case and a Buck. Do you want to see them?”
His smile morphed into a frown and I was informed, in no uncertain terms, that I needed to return to my truck for the knives. “You can’t enter this building with a knife,” he said.
To me, that’s a sad state of affairs, although one I understand. It’s also a negative reflection of the world in which we live. Still, for me a pocket knife will always be an essential tool, an inseparable companion and an item I carry with pride.
Sheer functionality is a key part of my love, but I never open one or perform a task with it without thinking of my father and paternal grandfather.
Both were avid “knife men.” They taught me knife safety, how to hone a blade to razor sharpness, and the importance of respecting a pocket knife to the point it almost became an extension of one’s hand. The passion they gave me is and will remain deeply embedded in my innermost being.
This story was originally published July 9, 2016 at 9:54 PM with the headline "A passion for pocket knives that comes from family."