There you are, you left your knife on the bureau cause you didn’t want to lose it to a scanner at the airport, and it's gone when you need it most. Turn around in a crowd of men today and ask for a knife to open something and they don’t have one on them.
I never thought about it, but a car salesman and I were talking. He was divorced and his son was becoming a teenager. He and the boy were out fishing one weekend, and he said, “You don’t have good jack knife do you?”
“Why dad?" the boy responded. "You can’t take them to school, I’d get expelled.”
“You mean boys don’t take knives to school any more?”
“No sir. You’ll be in the superintendent's office in the bat of an eye.”
How many of you older men always had a pocketknife in those days growing up? We use to play mumbly-peg. You threw the knife into the ground not over an inch from your opponent’s shoe or boot and he had to move his foot out against it. If you stuck it in the ground too wide of his foot gear, it didn’t count and the opponent got his chance again. With your feet finally so far apart, you either fell or conceded. Many times in this competition the winner got the other guy’s knife.
Guys good at honing edges on knives were sought out and many traded their dull one for another sharpened one and a little boot. Arguments broke out all the time over what company made the best knife. I always wanted a Buck knife and I finally got one when I was grown. They must have cost too much money when I was younger.
While cutting the sidewall out of an old tire to use for something, the blade on that Buck knife broke. So I pocketed what was left of it and went on. Someone told me if I’d send it back they would replace it. I never did, but I’d heard about that guarantee all my life.
Years ago, there was an old man over at Hindsville, Ark., that sat around A.T.’s General Store all day and casually would strike up words with everyone who entered. “What kind of knife do you have?”
His conversation usually ended working up a trade. That was his entertainment, and he worked hard at it. You could count on one thing if you traded with him, the blade on his would be sharp and lightly lubricated against rust and stiff opening.
Pocket knifes come in all sizes, from women’s purse models to huge frog stickers. Once, in the boiling dust and confusion of working cattle, I saw a man holding down a calf with his weight and one hand, then open a giant jack knife blade with his teeth. The sight kinda made me a little sick. Where all had he been keeping that dang thing?
The Swiss army knife was a little fat for me to carry. Besides I didn’t need all those gadgets anyway. A two bladed knife with an antler like grip was good enough. They make skinning knives with a hook blade that would have been handy to skin a deer or anything with. I can recall skinning a deer once with my pocket knife – after that I always had a sharp, real knife for that job.
When I go fishing, I strap on one of those tools, pliers, wire cutters, screw drivers, file and good-bladed knife all in one. One day with only it, we overhauled an outboard motor that wouldn't run on the banks of the White River below Bull Shoals Dam.
I was wearing it once inside an Indian Casino in the Dells, Wisc. A security guard came over and asked me if I would check it. I said sure, he gave me a receipt and filled out all the info on a tag. And when we left, there were three other farmer looking guys standing in line getting their’s back too.
Hope this New Year turns out well for you and your family.
Western novelist Dusty Richards and his wife Pat live on Beaver Lake in northwest Arkansas. For more information about his books you can email Dusty by visiting www.ozarksfn.com and clicking on 'Contact Us' or call 1-866-532-1960.
