It’s odd the things you treasure after someone important to you is gone. Like this knife, for example.
This knife is a Böker Tree brand; as you can see, it’s been well-loved. I don’t know for sure where he got it, but since Dad fought in Europe during WWII and later served in the Army of Occupation in Bremen, I suspect it came from there.
I can’t fathom how many sharpenings it took to wear out those blades. Most of a lifetime, I suspect.
Some of my earliest memories of him include this knife. Sharpening it, using it. I can see him in my mind’s eye, using that small blade, already well-worn then, to clean the spark plugs of a lawn mower that never ran right for more than a use or two.
After he died, I had Mrs. Freeholder and both kids helping me clean out his house. I had them on high alert for this knife, and as the days of effort wore on, I got increasingly concerned that it had gone missing. Eventually it was found in a drawer, keeping some other knives company. One of those was one of his father’s knives. Interesting.
I could source some new blades, replace the old worn ones, shine up the scales and have a nice knife. But that wouldn’t be right. It would deny the knife its history. So instead, I’m going to leave it as it is, and it will go in the curio with the other knives I’ve collected.
I wonder what my kids are going to make of all these knives when I’m gone. Just more of Dad’s crap to get rid of, or something worth keeping?
It’s a nice bit of family history. Hope the kids keep it as an heirloom. I think too many people today don’t have a connection to the past, or the family.