Since I was a kid, I’ve liked knives. Maybe it’s some primordial instinct that attracts me to those simple tools. Some of the earliest known human artifacts, more than a million years old, are blades made from flint. Or maybe it’s something that runs in my family. On my father’s side, my ancestors were toolmakers and it’s plausible that I’ve inherited some affinity for steel blades from them. In the end, it doesn’t matter. I like knives.
In my wardrobe, I have a faux leather box that contains a collection of pocket knives I’ve acquired over time. At some point I tried to sell them on eBay, but nobody wanted to buy a dozen used pocket knives, so they’re still there.
Some of the knives weren’t cheap when I bought them. One of them, produced by Benchmade, has fancy steel with incredible edge retention and a handle made from beautifully crafted aluminum. In retrospect, I realize this purchase was a mistake. Knives are tools, not pieces of jewelry. They’re meant to be used, sometimes roughly. Knives that are so expensive that you don’t want to use them defeat their purpose.
The knife I have in my pocket mostly sees use for opening boxes and peeling oranges, but sometimes, while out in the woods with my kids, I get to use it to cut a walking stick or craft a little boat out of bark that we float on a creek.
I recently broke a pocket knife while cutting a stick. I batoned it through the wood using a heavier piece of wood, which isn’t something pocket knives are meant for. It broke, and I was glad I had a collection of replacement knives in my box.
Nehaveigur 