Girls
We ran out of Kleenex in one of the bathrooms this morning, so I went to the garage to our stockpile of paper goods where I found a 4-pack of Kleenex, wrapped in plastic. I got one of dad’s old pocketknives out of the tool box to cut the plastic off...and giggled a little as I had trouble cutting through the plastic with that old knife.
My mind flashed back 60 years to watching my dad
sharpening his pocketknife almost daily. In his job at the hardware store in
Owensville, he had to use that knife often…cutting open boxes, cutting string
or rope for customers, digging out dirt from under his fingernails, any number of tasks.
Dad ALWAYS
carried two things in his pockets for as long as I remember…a coin purse (see blog from March 31, 2021), and
his pocketknife. And he always had that knife blade...razor sharp.
I don’t know if he had one at work too, but at home he had a
grinding stone that he used to sharpen his knife blades. He would find a comfortable place to sit, hold the grindstone in one hand and knife in the other...and slowly move the blade back and forth, one side of the blade then the other, and then move it in a circular motion over that stone…every once-in-a-while even spitting on the stone and then grinding that blade some more. I recalled him doing that when I was a kid...and for the next 30 years as we both grew older.
I
now wonder if that knife sharpening routine had two meanings for dad…one to sharpen the blade (obviously)…but also as a form of mental therapy for dad...a time out. He had no easy life…a
hard worker 60-70 hours a week…a wife in the state hospital with her mental
challenges…3 young kids at home to feed, clothe, get off to school and more
things on a to-do list than most. But dad thrived at doing all those things...and I think even took pride in them...and was certainly held in high regard by those who knew him and the challenges he faced.
But I'm thinking those few minutes...with his pocket knife and
grind stone...took him away from all of that…if only for a little while.
I sure
don’t have the challenges that dad had…but I’ve got a few. Maybe I oughta get
his grind stone out and sharpen his old knife.
REMEMBER: Don’t accept your dog’s admiration as
conclusive evidence that you are wonderful. –Ann Landers
Be talkin’ to ya.
Dad
Dad
