I'm not sure what I thought, looking wide-eyed at this week's Magpie Prompt. But it made me do a double take at the object in the photo.
You see, just days before, I was packing my bag to return to New York from Texas after the week of farewells to my Dad. My mother came into the room with something in her hand: Seven pocket knives. Immediately I knew they were Dad's. As long as I can remember, he carried a small pocket knife with him. Always! Men of his generation seemed to ALL carry pocket knives. And over some five decades he rubbed each one of them smooth and used them for opening cans, cutting finger nails, slicing envelopes, and lord knows what else. It's just a small thing that we don't ever think about.
I particularly remember Dad giving himself a quick manicure with his pocket knife on occasion. It fascinated me that someone could have their fingernails looking so clean and professional looking with a pocket knife! He had a technique about it that made me think that he could probably do just about any utility with that little knife.
Once I bought a cheap pocket knife and carried it around like Dad did. I never used it. Didn't quite know what to do with it, so I stopped carrying it. Men of his generation lived through tough times, knew more stuff, learned to do, create, repair, prepare, and utilize little tools like pocket knives, simple as they might have seemed, to get through life.
Or so I reckon.
Anyway, there Mom was, offering me one of these knives to remember Dad by. I picked a smooth, worn, amber-colored bone pocket knife. I don't know how I'll use it. But I'll carry it in my pocket and feel the smooth sadness at my finger tips.
And I'll smile.
Rick Baker
June 22, 2010
Rochester, NY
steel between my fingers
pocket weary
and handle worn,
still the blade
held tight and
that night
my mother offered
a small memento
of his life,
my memory sharp
and cradled in steel
between my
fingers.
Poem © 2010 by R. Burnett Baker
Photo courtesy of Willow at Magpie Tales
a wonderful write...my father and my FIL both carry pocket knives, just in case...they each have given me ones through the years...and most days i have mine...i only seem to forget it on days i need it...smiles.
ReplyDeletesome great memories in those wel worn handles...
Pocket knives are fascinating pieces of history. Great job reliving the memories (:
ReplyDeleteI so enjoyed this ... beautifully written and sweetly remembered. Use it well .......
ReplyDeleteI truly enjoyed this, thank you for sharing. Your words brought tears to my eyes. A beautiful Magpie.:)
ReplyDeleteSo much life in your words. A great Magpie!
ReplyDeleteBeautiful. I, too, remember the many uses of the ubiquitous pocket knife.
ReplyDeletejust another note to let you know that I have passed the Kreativ Blogger award on to you
ReplyDeletebecause i want others to read what good poetry can do to one's heart...
my memory sharp
ReplyDeleteand cradled in steel
between my
fingers
Beautiful. I'm so glad you have that little bit of your dad to grasp in your hand, Rick. This piece reached in, grabbed my heart and gave it a squeeze.
Beautiful, Rick...this truly is quite endearingly moving, your words bring tears to my eyes. It is so wonderful to have a little memento to remember our loved ones by, and you capture this human emotion so elegantly. This was a delight to read :)
ReplyDeleteYou captured well how a memento from your dad can have such emotional importance.
ReplyDeleteSad and sweet! I have my Daddy's knives, too.
ReplyDeleteWhat a lovely poem, and memory. Great magpie.
ReplyDelete'Smooth sadness' that is the pivotal phrase right there. It sums the whole thing up so well. I also had a father and grandfather who carried pocket knives and regarded those little objects with complete fascination. I really enjoyed reading this!
ReplyDeleteVery nice story and poem...love it...I too remember my father using his pocket knife to do his nails....good memories...bkm
ReplyDeleteMy gratitude and appreciation to you all for your comments and sentiments. We all know that this is such a difficult process, loss of a loved one. There is much comfort in the sharing, and expressions of support and kindness given. I so very much appreciate how we can reach out and learn about one another.... Thank you!
ReplyDeleteRick
The 'smooth sadness at your fingertips', is a powerful image here, Rick. I'm new to your blog via Willow and pleased to meet you.
ReplyDeleteThis memory of your father was lovely to read, tales like this make me realise how much I missed knowing my father who remarried after my mother died and I hardly knew him.. this was beautiful so full of love for your father.
ReplyDeleteChristine
Rick, thanks so much for the link to Laura Levine's site. She's fabulous!! I LOVE her work!! xx (I need the album, too)
ReplyDelete