Pocketknife

I carry a pocket knife. Every day, every where. I can't imagine being without a knife.

No, it's not some whiz-bang tactical knife. I don't like anything "tactical". Tactical is an exercise for the mind, not the equipment.

My current pocketknife is a Buck two-blade Trapper. I've carried this knife for a year or so. It has a clip point blade and a spey blade. Yes, I know how to use the spey blade. It gets sharpened as needed on an Arkansas stone I keep on my workbench.

Once upon a time, boys carried pocketknives. Constantly. My fourth grade teacher knew to a certainty that every little boy in her class, and most of the girls, had a pocketknife tucked away somewhere. If, for some reason, she got a box in the classroom, or needed to cut a cord, she'd ask "Who's got a knife?" and twenty little boys would start digging in their pockets. We'd unfold a blade and head toward the front of the class.

Now that I think about it, the visual image of that scene is something to contemplate. Twenty fouth graders, with open pocket knives, headed for the teacher. She was truly a trusting soul. Excuse me while I wipe the laughter from my eyes.

My youngest, Joey, always liked blades. Liked them a lot and carried constantly. Sometimes, Joe would have as many as nine blades tucked about his person. Ask Joey for a knife, and there was no telling what he might draw from his clothing. It might be a set of throwing knives, or a nine-inch Bowie. You just never knew. Did he cut himself? Yeah, as did my other sons. The lesssons in learning to properly use a blade sometimes cause pain.

Sunday past, my son and I were assembling a deer stand on the tailgate of my pickup truck before carrying it to the woods. The grandkids (age 4 and 7) were crawling around in the bed of the truck, pestering us and poking each other. I took out a knife to open a box, then folded it and laid it aside. We continued assembling the stand, till we heard the youngest one cry out in pain. He proclaimed that blood was coming out and I saw the opened knife.

A bandaid fixed the problem and he learned a life lesson. Leave PawPaw's knife alone. He's still a little young to have a knife of his own, but in another couple of years he'll be ready.

Every little boy should have a knife. It teaches the responsible use of power. A pocketknife teaches that a tool can be misused to hurt yourself or another person and that there are very real consequences when a tool is misused or used carelessly. It also teaches that just because you have that power doesn't mean you should use it. All other lessons flow from that one.