Page 26 - Blade (February 2020)

KNIFE TALK |
A knife dealer gave this knife to the author. “Guess
what, she was just like one of my fi rst knives, given
to me because she did not have a point that could
hurt me,” the author wrote. “She held a great edge
and was a friend for years.”
While she led me home by
my left ear and a little hair,
she wanted to know where I
got the pencils—and even accused
me of stealing them! She confiscated
my remaining inventory and my profits
for the day. I had more money in my
pocket but did not say anything. She kept
talking about a bum and I wondered what
that was.
“THE VALUE OF A KNIFE
VARIES WITH WHAT YOU
CAN DO WITH IT.”
—THE AUTHOR
THE WOODEN LEG
For me, the value of a knife varies with
what you can do with it.
My grandfather would show me how
to make rabbit traps and whistles, sling
shots, pointed sticks, play mumblety-peg
and many more uses for a knife. Another
old friend who encouraged my interest in
knives was an elderly gentleman who was
usually found sitting on the park bench in
front of city hall. He was always carving
wood, making large pointed sticks into
smaller pointed ones until there were
only shavings on the ground, soon to
become mulch.
He was special. Somehow, if you
watched his hands, the work he was
doing with the knife seemed to add to the
conversation. He had many great stories
and a wooden leg. He never said how he
lost his real leg. I mention the wooden
leg because of his favorite trick. When a
new kid was present and the elderly gent
wanted to roll a cigarette, he would stab
the knife in his wooden leg so he could
use both hands. New kids would go
“Wow!” but no one ever said anything.
One kid who was a little slow watched
26 BLADE FEBRUARY 2020
him and took out his knife,
startedtocarveonastick
started to carve on a stick,
and, not knowing about the wooden leg,
stabbed the knife into his leg. I helped him
walk home and when his mother wanted
to know what happened, he told her he
stabbed his knife into his own leg. She
shook her head and asked, “What in the
hell were you thinking?” Her son told her
there was a guy at the park bench who did it
all the time. I don’t think she believed him.
CHANCE to be a HERO
th
Later, around the 4 grade, my grandfather
gave me my first, very own, personal
knife. One day we had a great tragedy.
Th e 4 -grade pencil sharpener broke
th
and education came to a standstill. Many
of you will remember how necessary it
was to sharpen a pencil. It was to be my
moment of glory. I had a knife and could
sharpen a pencil pretty well. I was a hero!
My first client needing a pencil sharpened
was Lorelai Silverstine, who was also my
girlfriend at the time.
KNIVES in PICTURES
I do not remember seeing any photos
of knives that were not in someone’s
hands being used. I never thought of
a pocketknife as a weapon until I saw
Catcher in the Rye. I remember being
amazed. It seemed wrong—that was not
what pocketknives were for! Th ey were
not weapons in my mind but tools for
making constructive stuff, a tool no man