Bill Powell Is Alive
{ Man Found Alive With Two Legs }

A personal blog about Linux and literature, distributism and Catholicism, adventures in permaculture, and being alive.

So I Actually Use My Pocketknife

by Bill Powell | updated: 2004 Jul 20 Tue | published: 2004 Jul 20, 00:00 Tue
tags: quest

You know you’re on a farm when your parents give you a pocketknife and, months later, you still carry it around every day.

In the past, I would occasionally have a Daniel Boone attack and buy (or find around the house) a cheap rip-off of a Handy Dandy Swiss Army Knife. For two or three days, it would bang around in my pocket, reminding me as I sat at my desk that if ever a hurricane struck, the roof blew off, and I had to slit out the cubicle cloth to make a lean-to, I’d be ready. (Whatever a lean-to is.) And yet all too soon, the knife would drop from my morning Pocket Filling Ritual, leaving me complacent and defenseless.

These days, though, a day without a knife is like a cubicle without an outlet. I still can’t hang onto a Gadget-Packed Wonder, but I do always have my serrated Big Bad Blade. The thing just asks to be plunged into the rib cage of a bear. I never answer it. But, I do use it for many lesser tasks, such as:

  • Cut the twine on bales of hay or straw
  • Cut any other twine, actually, such as the tomato trellis twine I’ll go back to after this blog
  • Hack off the small branches that overhang the path to our cabin
  • Defend my wife and daughter from marauding wolves
  • Cut nasty old plastic into the right shape to cover mushroom logs (that is, logs on which mushrooms grow)
  • Practice flicking the blade out like a true farmer-gangster
  • Pretend to whittle
  • Slice lunch, if I’ve forgotten about the nasty plastic
  • Open packages that are encased in that special kind of hard, seemingly thin plastic that is impervious to the human finger
  • Cut myself (by accident)
  • Harvest salad mix, head lettuce, or anything other produce you cut
  • Just kidding about the wolves
  • Cut electric fencing when the horses need to get past it (an infrequent job, but exciting)

I’ll think of ten more after I finish, but you get the idea. Knives are good. For a pocket companion, I recommend the kind that fold up rather than a breadknife or butcher cleaver, but that’s the voice of eager youth rather than experience. Now I need to go use mine. Or take a siesta.


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