new member from Canada
Posted: Thu Nov 29, 2012 6:57 pm
Good day,
When I was 5 years old, my parents moved to a different house in Guelph, Ontario, Canada. The fellow next door, Joe, was in the process of building his house, and as I didn’t have any friends on the street yet, I spent much of my time watching and talking to him. He often said that he never met a 5 year old with so much to say (my wife says the same now). This was where I was introduced to my first pocket knife. If I recall correctly, Joe had some sort of stockman, and I was absolutely mesmerized. I used to wait for Joe to show up so that I could see his knife, and he even let me open and close it myself.
In my 5 year old mind I devised a plan which included a small lie, which I’m not totally proud of. One Saturday I told Joe that my father sent me over to see if we could borrow his knife. I remember Joe asking me a few questions, but in the end, I ended up with the pocket knife in my hands. An hour later or so, my dad and I visited some friends on the other side of town. They lived next to a big field, and a couple of kids and I were throwing rocks and ‘dirt bombs’ into the field. I had the knife (closed) in the same hand as the rocks, and stupid me threw the knife into the field. I panicked, cried, and had to come clean with my dad. I remember a number of adults combing around in the field looking for the knife to no avail. I had to tell Joe that I had lied to him, and that I lost his knife.
Fast forward 46 years. The memory came to mind and I recounted the story for my wife, and the first thing she says is “You mean to say that after all these years, you have never gone out and bought Joe a replacement knife?”…more as a command, as opposed to a question. So I went out and bought Joe a nice stockman knife. Joe is still living next to my parent’s house and is about 80 years old now. One day, when I was visiting my parents, Joe was working in his garden and I called him over. He’s always happy to see me. I asked him if he remembered the time when I was little, while he was building his house…with a smile he answered “yes”…and the time you gave me your pocket knife…and with a big smile he said “yes I remember well”. So I let him know that after all these years, I had a present for him.
Words cannot capture the spirit of that moment, and the connection we had, without getting all mushy. I guess this small gesture, many years later, reminded us of how much time has passed, and the importance of memories. I asked if Joe would put the knife in his pocket, and carry it with him for a while, and he gladly did because he said that he has always carried a pocket knife… “you need one all the time when you are working in the garden”.
I look forward to spending much more time on the AAPK site…learning and observing. Until this point it seems that I have been on my own, collecting the odd knife here and there, but this site has raised my awareness up a few hundred notches. I have just started collecting with more focus, so I’ll probably have lots of questions. I have also recently acquired a number of old pocket knives and I’m trying to do a bit of homework. The knives I love the most tell a story, and were an important part of people’s lives. Thank you to all the good folks on this site for maintaining such a valuable resource.
Oh, and by the way, my name is Lawrence…and I live in Mississauga, Ontario, Canada.
When I was 5 years old, my parents moved to a different house in Guelph, Ontario, Canada. The fellow next door, Joe, was in the process of building his house, and as I didn’t have any friends on the street yet, I spent much of my time watching and talking to him. He often said that he never met a 5 year old with so much to say (my wife says the same now). This was where I was introduced to my first pocket knife. If I recall correctly, Joe had some sort of stockman, and I was absolutely mesmerized. I used to wait for Joe to show up so that I could see his knife, and he even let me open and close it myself.
In my 5 year old mind I devised a plan which included a small lie, which I’m not totally proud of. One Saturday I told Joe that my father sent me over to see if we could borrow his knife. I remember Joe asking me a few questions, but in the end, I ended up with the pocket knife in my hands. An hour later or so, my dad and I visited some friends on the other side of town. They lived next to a big field, and a couple of kids and I were throwing rocks and ‘dirt bombs’ into the field. I had the knife (closed) in the same hand as the rocks, and stupid me threw the knife into the field. I panicked, cried, and had to come clean with my dad. I remember a number of adults combing around in the field looking for the knife to no avail. I had to tell Joe that I had lied to him, and that I lost his knife.
Fast forward 46 years. The memory came to mind and I recounted the story for my wife, and the first thing she says is “You mean to say that after all these years, you have never gone out and bought Joe a replacement knife?”…more as a command, as opposed to a question. So I went out and bought Joe a nice stockman knife. Joe is still living next to my parent’s house and is about 80 years old now. One day, when I was visiting my parents, Joe was working in his garden and I called him over. He’s always happy to see me. I asked him if he remembered the time when I was little, while he was building his house…with a smile he answered “yes”…and the time you gave me your pocket knife…and with a big smile he said “yes I remember well”. So I let him know that after all these years, I had a present for him.
Words cannot capture the spirit of that moment, and the connection we had, without getting all mushy. I guess this small gesture, many years later, reminded us of how much time has passed, and the importance of memories. I asked if Joe would put the knife in his pocket, and carry it with him for a while, and he gladly did because he said that he has always carried a pocket knife… “you need one all the time when you are working in the garden”.
I look forward to spending much more time on the AAPK site…learning and observing. Until this point it seems that I have been on my own, collecting the odd knife here and there, but this site has raised my awareness up a few hundred notches. I have just started collecting with more focus, so I’ll probably have lots of questions. I have also recently acquired a number of old pocket knives and I’m trying to do a bit of homework. The knives I love the most tell a story, and were an important part of people’s lives. Thank you to all the good folks on this site for maintaining such a valuable resource.
Oh, and by the way, my name is Lawrence…and I live in Mississauga, Ontario, Canada.
Great story, eh(sp?).
