The Knives I Don't CarryTo paraphrase the inimitable Martin Short in Father of the Bride: every party has a pooper, that's why Trip invited me. Though it may horrify the Southern blogosphere, I do not carry a pocketknife on a daily basis. That's not to say I'm opposed to knives, quite the opposite actually: I've had access to sharp implements long before it would be even remotely prudent. I received a Swiss Army Recruit when I was 5 for serving as a ring bearer in my uncle's wedding. That carried me through many years of Cub and Boy Scouting, surviving trips to Bert Adams Scout Camp, and once spending 6-8 months rolled up inside a tent in our basement before being rescued the next spring. In high school I worked as a summer camp counselor and bought an elaborate Spyderco knife that managed to get lost at a lacrosse teammate's party in remarkably short time for such an expensive piece of cutlery. College often saw me without a knife, which was probably for the best from a public safety standpoint, but I did carry a Case Sodbuster during most of law school, which is most useful during a recession for opening rejection letters.
Nevertheless, I eventually secured employment in Washington, DC. Much like a spy behind enemy lines, I'm deep in foreign (Yankee) territory here, and dare not carry personal effects that would identify myself as a southerner. The bow ties and seersucker do that well enough. Our nation's capital has weapons laws that were presumably drafted by Gandhi himself, which I'm sure is quite comforting to the gentleman who was stabbed on my block a few weeks ago. Most of my day is spent in government buildings, and despite being a lawyer myself, I can't for the life of me decipher the regulations surrounding what kind of knives might or might not earn me a trip to federal prison. Someday I'll live again in an area where grown men can be trusted to carry pointy objects in public. Until then, my knives will be staying home.
My knife,
First, I believe in carrying a knife everywhere as it is a super practical tool, and a cutting edge is not something you come across in nature (unlike a hammer, since just about everything can be used to mash the junk out of something else). Second, I lose pocketknives almost as quickly as I buy them. Thus, I have become quite versed in the <$50.00 pocket knife. Third, I didn’t add any photos, so be prepared to use your imagination to paint a wonderful literary photograph of my non-sentimental, mass produced outside of the States, cutting machine.
I always go for one handed openers. While I have a nice collection of Buck and doctors knifes that I got as gifts, they are about as practical as using a black powdered pistol for self-defense. Sure, they carry a much larger amount of class, but f-that: I’m cutting things here. I prefer non-assisted openers as I have had a couple go off in my pocket, which is quite the opposite of awesome. However, that being said, I currently carry an assisted opener and I love it; I just make sure the sharp part stays away from my important areas, i.e. out of my pocket.
I currently carry a Kershaw Speedsafe (my third Kershaw, all assisted openers). My first went in the trash because my mother thought it was a switch blade, and the second my old man stole back from me after I stole it from him. So far so good. I bought it for $20.00 at Mark’s Outdoors in Bham (who I do NOT endorse except for gunsmithing). I didn’t look for a picture, but it has a plastic handle and a sharp pointed metal end for cutting and stabbing. It does both well and is pretty rad.
Point is, I think this knife jams. It is super lightweight, which is important for scrubs and bathing suits. I do carry my knife to work and I really don’t want its weight to cause it to bulge, as some of my knives have. Also, it has a good feel and a nice textured grip which fits the hand nicely. I have purchased several knives which were great except the grip was terrible, which can be a real pain when you are sweating (happens in the South). The clip is solid and doesn’t wiggle lose and the assisted opener isn’t’ so powerful that the knife jumps. Down sides is it’s made in China; I realized this after I purchased it and was pretty upset. It doesn’t have a lock to prevent opening—not super cool either. The clip isn’t ambi, which is also a bummer as I like to carry my CCP on my right side.
I believe in bringing every weapon you can to a gun/knife/fist fight--I really don’t care what the other dude has. That being said, this knife does rock and even though it’s made in China, I’ll probably buy another one. I used to use Ontario Knife Company because they make awesome knives, but they are asses in the customer service department and Yankees, so I said “Later.” I’ll probably go back to them in a bit as their knives are really too good to pass up, and I bear a grudge about as well as Obama runs America.
I grew up in a pocket knife carrying family, so having one has never been an issue. In fact, I experience multiple panic-stricken moments on the days that I forget to bring it with me. “Did it fall out of my pocket? Oh Lord – where did I leave it…” until I remember that it’s waiting for me at home. My Granddad was never without his pocket knife. I remember him teaching me how to sharpen a knife with a stone and spit. He carried a Buck for as long as I can remember. We’d give him a new one every few years, but it took him about ten years to trade it out. After his passing, Mom got his last knife and keeps it in her jewelry box.
This Buck Gent has been with me for about twenty years. I bought it at Beaver Creek Landing on Lake Wateree in South Carolina. I’ve ‘lost’ it numerous times, only to have it returned by good friends who found it on the floorboard of their truck, or by my in-laws, who found it beneath their couch cushions.
The size of the Gent is very pocket appropriate, and its weight is just enough to let you know it’s there. It’s not fancy, but it’s not junk. It holds an edge well, and is made in the USA. While it is only a single blade, it has been used for so much more than cutting. I would put it up against any of its Swiss Army cousins.
The value of the $25 I spent on the knife has been more than realized, and I’m sure it’ll eventually make its escape. Until then, here’s to my sharp companion.
My grandfather carried Bucks his entire life. He grew up during the depression and very much knew the value of a dollar. Buck knives were well made…in America…and always got the job done, plus they were affordable. His motto “if the knife is worth anything, the man who made it would have sharpened it from the factory”. Buck never let him down in that regard, they always came razor sharp. I still remember the last knife my grandfather was given, the Buck Stockman. He had the same knife for years…he did not replace a knife for the sake of owning a new knife. To him a knife was an old friend, trusted and reliable. He used the knife everyday of his life, from working on tractors or cars, whittling a childlike “pipe” for grandchildren (a small stick and the top to an acorn), to castrating hogs. Eventually Gran (what I called my grandfather) lost his old knife somewhere. It could have been in the barn, in the house, in a patch of woods or pasture. None the less he was in the market for a new one. The Christmas of 1993 my dad gave Gran a Buck Stockman. He was complete again. He used his new knife for 3 months and it was in his pocket the morning he passed away that following March. Putting his knife in his pocket was as routine as a pouring a cup of coffee and a kissing my grandmother on the cheek to start the day. My dad was given the new Stockman back after Gran passed away and while moving Gran’s old recliner (ironically the one he passed away in as well), we found his old Stockman. I guess it’s fitting that we have two Buck Stockman’s to remember him by, one for my father and one for me.
Ralph's grandfather's Buck Stockmans
That said I wear dress pants and suits most days of my life. Gran was dealt a much more friendly hand in life as he was able to farm most of his. He did not make a ton of money but he lived a rich life. The Stockman fit his life, three blades, large and robust. The Buck 505 Knight is slim and has but one blade. It fits well in dress pants and does not protrude out and become visible for the whole world to see. It is still very much a Buck. It holds an edge and has been very reliable. I thought I had lost it once but it was in the cushions of a friends sofa…a pattern emerged, knives like furniture.
Ralph and his dad's Buck 505 "Knights"
I grant you that I have overstated the case: Not all men have pocketknives. I was carried away by the force of my upbringing. I was raised, you see, in a tradition in which it was considered improper for a man to be without a knife on his person. (Seriously, I hound my sons to carry one, just as my father hounded me, and his father him, and so on, world without end.) My grandfather had a number of dicta, all of which were aimed at delineating how a gentleman should comport himself. One of them was: No gentleman should ever be without a pocketknife. You would have to have known him to appreciate the full paradoxicality of the statement. He had the most elegant manners of any man I ever met, but he was ready for anything--fish or cut bait, figuratively or literally--you take the full measure of the man: A gentleman should be able to prepare a light supper without removing his jacket. Obviously, you would have loved him.If you don't carry a pocketknife, I hope I've presented a compelling enough case to consider picking one up. They come in all shapes, sizes, and price ranges, so just find what works best for you. Also, be sure to leave it at home if you're heading to the airport...
Both my father and grandfather preferred what they (expectedly) called gentleman's knives: thin, graceful ones with pearl or gold handles. For myself, I have for years carried a large Swiss Army knife (the kind that has not only blades, but saws, scissors, screwdrivers, tweezers, a file, an auger, a can opener, and--again, expectedly--a corkscrew). In my father's eyes, such a knife, while admittedly fascinating and obviously useful, was gauche. It tried to be too many things at once (my father was a stickler for using only real tools, and for using them right)--and it was too bulky for a gentleman's pocket. I suppose it marks me as the degenerate son of a great house, but as long as I carry a knife at all, and keep it sharp, I hardly think my forebears will disown me.
I feel the day coming, though, when the pressure of my upbringing will force me to lay aside my portable Swiss workshop. They taught me too well. Deep in my subconscious lies the proposition: An old man without a thin, gold pocketknife is not a real old man. He is a man who missed his calling: no ancient priest of creation, but a superannuated acolyte who never earned the badge of his profession. My ownership of a gold knife, therefore, is only a matter of time. I could not think myself ripe without it.
What is true of my family, however, may not be true of yours. Many men are so taken up with the world of machines that they think it idle to carry a pocketknife. After all, you say, chocolate bars are scored to break easily, cigars are now manufactured with holes in their heads, and the post office efficiently breaks all package strings before they reach the addressee. Who needs a knife?
Your points are well taken. Let me direct your attention, however, to some factors you may have overlooked. First, while chocolate bars can be eaten without a knife, many of life's more satisfactory alfresco delicacies are intractable--even inaccessible--unless you have one. Candy never relieves the monotony of long family car trips half as well as an impromptu dispensation of sausages and cheese. Pepperoni, touristenwurst, landjaeger, cervelat, salami--name what you like--any of them, thrown whole into the back seat along with Daddy's pocketknife, will provide more wholesome diversion than chocolate ever could. If you children are contentious, of course, it will tend to bring out the worst in them. But then, with contentious children, so will anything else. At least it keeps them fighting with each other, and not with their parents.
Your two other points may be dealt with more briefly. For the first: Not all cigars have holes in their heads; until they do, no wise man should go through life (unless he has the elegantly sharp teeth and a miraculous bite) chomping the ends off expensive cigars. For the second: My only answer is that you have never received a package from me. What I tie up stays tied forever, unless you have a knife. You will sooner find a piece of postal clerk caught under my string than you will find the string missing form my package.
For the rest, however, let me simply ask you: How, without a pocketknife, do you pick a piece of privet blossom for a present to your second youngest daughter? How peel an orange to prove the goodness of creation? How amaze your friends with you ability to splice rope on a deserted beach? How open the clams you dig on an idle afternoon? (Even with a pocketknife, it isn't easy; but it is something a gentleman should practice till he masters.) And lastly, how is the race of men to survive boring lectures, conferences, and committee meetings without a knife with which to whittle away the time? We give fold watches when men retire. To keep them sane, we should give them gold pocketknives when they start out.
So much for the digression.
"Made Right Here" pitch spot from RICK PAGE on Vimeo.
Posts
All Comments
