Showing posts with label pocket knife. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pocket knife. Show all posts

Saturday, June 15, 2019

A Man's Not Dressed Without His Pocket Knife - column

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com

(Recycled from 2009, and so possibly a re-post)

A Man’s Not Dressed Without His Pocket Knife

This last Christmas certain environmentalist groups advertised meaningful green gifts – instead of giving your child a bicycle or a football for Christmas you could donate the money you would have spent on your own kid to some stranger who’s shown you a picture of a polar bear allegedly drowning.

It’s a polar bear, citizens; it swims in the water and eats harp seals, you know, the cute widdy-biddy harp seals with the big ol’ eyes. The polar bear rips screaming baby harp seals apart with its fangs and claws, and the baby harp seals die far more horribly than if they got whacked in the back of the head, and then they get eaten. How’s that for a bedtime story, PETA?

When I was a child there was nothing I would have wanted more than to stumble sleepily but excitedly into the living room to find a card (printed on recycled paper with recycled soy-based ink) giving me glad tidings that a penguin had the new cap pistol I wanted. Sadly, my parents weren’t green, and so gave me cap pistols and baseball gloves and toy trains and an ant farm.

Although not as exciting as a new bicycle, a good pocket knife is a far better gift than being bullied into pretending to feel good about a fish or a ground squirrel. Giving a boy his first pocket knife is a traditional rite of passage, and having it taken away a day or two later for misuse is another traditional rite of passage. A knife, after all, is a tool, not a toy, and owning one is a grown-up thing.

My ol’ daddy said that a man’s not fully dressed without his pocket knife; experience demonstrates that this is true. The knife was perhaps the first tool used by humans, probably beginning with a sharp flint, and necessary for skinning a rabbit, slicing veggies, building a fire, eating, building, mending, opening, slicing, dicing, picking your teeth, and cleaning your fingernails. Mind the order of usage, of course! No one who lives close to the land or the sea or the workshop can function without a good knife to hand at all times.

Thomas Jefferson is often credited for inventing the first folding knife, which, while not as strong as a one-piece, is certainly easier to carry about. Manufacturers began adding extra blades, and then the Swiss got the idea of adding specific tools in miniature, resulting in the Swiss Army Knife. Where or not the Swiss Army carries Swiss Army Knives is a good topic of conversation. While these gadgets are fun, I’ll bet your old grandpa could accomplish with his single-bladed pocket knife whatever task was necessary before you could find and unlimber the designated thingie out of a Swiss Army Knife or a multi-tool.

A friend gave me a nice little lock-back with a single blade with saw-teeth. I found this knife so useful that a few weeks later I bought a larger model, made-in-America, even while thinking to myself that the last thing I needed was another pocket knife. And then a few weeks after that Hurricane Rita did not hit New Orleans, and that big ol’ American knife with its one large blade and saw-teeth paid for itself many times over with its survival utility.

Shiny things under the tree or for a birthday are fun: little plastic boxes that light up and make noise, and other little boxes that allow you to hear The Immortal Words of Our Time – “Can you hear me now?” and “She’s all up in my face!” But when you are long-gone, your grandchildren and great-grandchildren will not treasure your MePod or your cell ‘phone or your Brickberry, because those dinky disposables will have long since been recycled into beer cans or Chinese cars. But they will treasure your old pocket knife, its edge well-worn from good, honest use and from many sharpenings around a winter’s fire when the stories are told.

Sturdy, American-made pocket knives are great, traditional gifts for men and boys. They are also perfect for skinning baby harp seals.

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Sunday, August 4, 2013

The Little Bighorn and a Pocket Knife


 
 
Mack Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

The Little Bighorn and a Pocket Knife

One of the most poignant artifacts to be seen at the museum / gift shop / ticket booth / visitors’ center at the site of the Battle of the Little Bighorn is an ordinary pocket knife with a yellow bone handle.  Although buried for decades, it looks as if a little penetrating oil and a few turns with an Arkansas stone could set it right.

This knife, in style similar to the modern stockman or congress, reposes beneath glass along with another pocket knife, buttons, a wedding ring, watch parts, coins, pipes, combs, and other personal items of the sort carried by men in 1876 and now.  All these things, and thousands more, have over the years been discovered in the earth of grassy hills which, except for one terrible day in 1876, have always enjoyed quiet and relative isolation.

In a battlefield museum one expects to see weapons, uniforms, and other bits of militaria, but the non-reg gear reminds us that battles are not fought by keyboard commandos, recruiting posters, or propped and padded geriatric actors with bad wigs and obsequious staffs, but by 19-year-olds who miss their moms and dads.

This pocket knife was probably carried by an ordinary soldier, a private or a corporal.  Sure, it might have been owned by an officer or by any of the lads who won the day; after all, in 1876 many of the Cheyenne and Sioux carried far more modern rifles than the government-issue, and a man who could buy or trade for a good new Henry repeater could also buy a good American or English pocket knife.  But the chances are this knife was owned by a trooper, a G.I.

No man is fully dressed without his pocket knife.  A soldier now known but to God used his good little pocket knife to work his horse harness, repair clothing and equipment, skin and gut small critters, cut his food, cut a fishing pole, sharpen a pencil, open a letter from home, cut rope and string, open boxes, dig for splinters, clean his teeth and fingernails, clean a fish, shape wood, and split kindling, and for therapy whittle a stick around the evening campfire while having a smoke and talking with his messmates. 

And then one day our soldier, exhausted and terrified, was killed in an hour of racket and chaos, along with lots of other young men, both Yanks and Indians, because an American government decided that a treaty between two nations meant only what the president thought it should mean on any given day.

And so our soldier’s pocket knife, along with D-rings, tobacco pouches, shell casings, eyeglasses, belt buckles, arrowheads, horseshoes, and saloon tokens, was left in the soil of Montana.  So were the bone, blood, and flesh of the soldier.

It’s a nice knife.  Useful.  Modest.  None of the “tactical” gimcrackery so fashionable just now.  It’s a knife for honest work, not for show, though our soldier must have been proud of it.  He made a good, sensible purchase at the sutler’s or in a hardware store all those years ago. 

Too bad his leaders, both in Washington and on the ground in Montana, couldn’t have made similarly sensible choices.


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Sunday, June 23, 2013

Knives on a Plane



Mack Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com


Knives on a Plane


1.   Pre-teens climbing over the seats and screaming  – they’re a problem.

2.   Brats (of all ages) who will not turn off their signal-spewing electronic devices at takeoff and landing – they’re a problem

3.   The fat slob whose rolls of blubber spill over into your seat and your life – he’s a problem.

4.   The lady next to you whose bare arm features a weeping, oozing, infected tattoo – she’s a problem.

5.   A suicidal Egyptian pilot with a messed-up home life – he’s a problem.

6.   That one mechanic who, while in a hurry and being glared at by his supervisor, doesn’t secure some hatch or bolt as he should – he’s a problem.  So’s his supervisor.

7.   The lady in front of you who insists on leaning her seat back into your face – she’s a problem.  Especially if she’s got critters in her hair.

8.   The conspiracy of sick, twisted wretches who design airline seating – they’re a problem.

9.   The idiots who bring aboard live lobsters in boxes – they’re a problem.

10.The jerks who bring aboard huge duffel bags, garbage sacks full of who-knows-what, and miscellaneous cases, and spent a half-hour trying to jam them into the overheads – they’re a problem.

11.Airlines who let this happen – they’re a problem.

12.Airlines who carry all this impedimenta away FOR FREE to stow them in the baggage compartment – they’re a problem.

13.Airlines who charge the considerate passengers for checking their modest bags at the counter – they’re a problem.

14.Drunken, party-hearty frat boys – or are they Secret Service? - yelling obscenities to each other – they’re a problem.

15.Rude, snarly, slovenly Air Canada cabin attendants – they’re a problem.  Canadians really are the politest folks you’ll meet, and apparently they deal with their few anti-socials by exiling them to Air Canada.

16.Lung-choking-chemical-perfume lady – she’s a problem.

17.Terrorists – they’re a problem.

18.The 1½ inch Swiss Army Knife I bought at the gift shop in one of the most security-conscious airports in the world – that’s not a problem.

 

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Sunday, April 1, 2012

The Penknife of Destiny

Mack Hall, HSG
mhall46184@aol.com

The Penknife of Destiny

The Romans won with gladius and pilum
(Though after battle they had to file ‘em)

The ancient Samurai were pleased to lop
Their enemies, beginning at the top

And in the West, King Arthur’s noble knights
Bore steel that gave the wicked paynim frights

And later, Robin Hood, with bow and arrow,
Taught villains about the straight and narrow

As did brave Henry at old Agincourt --
The French thought archery quite a foul sport

The sons of desert scenes waved sword and lance
(But surely all that sand gave ’em scratchy pants)

And now Great Men boast glowing, pulsing nukes
In lieu of carefully worded rebukes

Mad leaders with bombs, a threat to all life --
They disapprove of your Swiss Army Knife