"A person's pocket knife can tell you a lot about that person. Mine says 'I ain't always that sharp!'" - Anonymous
Pocket knives have always been an important part of my life. When I was a kid, they were an object of fascination that represented some measure of coming of age ("You can have one when you're older."). Both of my grandfathers carried pocket knives. To me, a pocket knife always seemed to be a mark of preparedness. And in the right hands, they are useful - from carving watermelon or slicing an apple, or in a pinch as a makeshift screwdriver. There are knives in my small collection that connect me to certain specific times in my life. This is one of them.
I can't say that I have always carried a pocket knife throughout my life. But there have been periods of time when it was second nature. During some classes at Morehead State, like Botany and Local Flora, I used my red Case canoe knife that my Papaw June got me to cut leaves and whole plants for the plant collections those classes required. I used this knife a lot during the field work for my PhD. Look closely at the photo below, on the larger blade you can see a chip on the edge near the tip, from where I dropped the knife in a creek and it landed point-down on a rock. Afterwards, I stopped carrying it, afraid I'd break or lose it. I dated the production of this knife to 1997, and while I can't remember when I received it, I believe that it was a Christmas present from my papaw that year.
For the longest time, I kept the knife stashed in a Shaker box along with other keepsakes. After Papaw June died in 2017 I started carrying it with me in my pocket again. Irregularly at first - I'd forget it on my dresser in the morning, or sometimes I'd be afraid I'd lose it. Over time, I began to feel like something was missing if I didn't have it with me. It's useful, I open a lot of packages with it at work. But often, I just feel glad to have it with me in my pocket. It's a totem in a sense, or a good luck charm. It connects me to my grandfathers in ways I can't explain but that I consider a lot. The knife reminds me of my roots in eastern Kentucky where the tradition of carrying and using pocket knives is strong, so every day I carry a small piece of home around with me. It also has occurred to me that losing pocket knives, and subsequently finding them again is part of the overall experience of carrying a pocket knife. I have a story to write about that, one of these days.
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I forget which friend it was who said they asked their father if he had his knife, and he said "I'm wearing pants, ain't I?"
ReplyDeleteAh! Josh, this is one of the reasons I think you're swell. I, too, had a strong relationship to a pocket knife in Appalachia. My dad always had one (also a Case if I remember correctly) and we would sit and whittle sticks to sharp points at the cemetery where my brother and his parents were buried. My dad is buried there now, and I get homesick to just sit and whittle with him, talking about days gone by. Thank you for sharing, and reminding me of Home, even if it isn't as homey these days.
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