Every Knife Tells A Story

The blueish/purple coloring is a patina from use.

Back in the dark ages, I was studying to be a high school English teacher. I’ve always loved reading, writing, and most of all, telling and sharing stories.

I’ve carried a small pocketknife with me every day for the better part of a decade. It’s been overseas with me, to the desert, in the mountains, on a fire line. When my son was born, I knew that one day I’d pass on the knife to him.

I trust you to be dangerous, I would say. I trust you to protect yourself and others. I trust you.

But you know what? Looking at that knife, it looks exactly like every other knife of that model from the same manufacturer. Yes, it’s a little bit scuffed, but I’ve kept it sharp and clean. Despite all it’s been through, you can’t tell that I’ve had it going on for thirteen years.

It has been a part of my life so long, but you can’t tell what those stories are. Most of them I’ve forgotten anyway.

Now, let’s look at the knife I forged for myself.

A small 3.5 inch blade with a cocobolo handle.

I haven’t had it long because I haven’t been at this for years and years. Yet, it already has more character and uniqueness than the knife that’s older than my marriage.

You can see where I took my kids on their first fishing trip. When I made dinner for the family that one night. When we took our first real vacation as a family.

And on and on. The handle itself is beautiful and comfortable in my hand. Even that ages as I use it, the oils in my hand darkening the handle every time it leaves the sheath. Every cut I make, every strop to sharpen it, every strike of a fire steel, makes the knife uniquely mine.

Even the leather sheath will age uniquely depending on how and where I carry it. It already has numerous dings and dents and scrapes from wearing it in the woods, on the shoreline, in the shop.

Most of these scratches have come while hiking in the woods with my two little kids.

I’ve made many like it before and probably will after - it’s a great design that works in a variety of situations. But none of them will be like this one. None of those knives will tell the story of my kids’ first fishing trip.

That patina belongs to me. I’ve earned it. It tells a small part of my story. I’d rather have a knife that can age with me and tell my stories long after I’m gone than a clean one from some large manufacturer.

Next time I’ll write a little more about the patina and what makes it simultaneously beautiful and functional to the longevity of the blade.

Every knife tells a story.

What will yours say?