Every now and then I like to share a personal knife story as in this experience.
Some folks have an itch that requires scratching every now and then...some more than others.The itch to which I refer is the need or desire to watch other people. You might find them sitting on a bench in a mall gossiping and chuckling as they watch the circus parade of diversity stroll by. Others develop the short term disease called "rubber-necking" when seeing a fender bender on the road. You know, the person that looks like the little girl in the movie where her head spends around in a complete 360 degrees, this somehow supernaturally causes their foot to become light as a feather on the gas pedal, whereby they become oblivious to the fifty cars stacking up behind them. But I digress. Others, like me, are those who enjoy studying the behavior and lifestyle of folks. This unfortunately means having an insatiable long term itch. So begins the scratch.
It was one of those warm winter days a few years ago in late Dec. early Jan..A day off from work, a day off from responsibility, a me, myself and I kinda day. A seek and find knife hunting day! Those are some of the best kinds of days off. It's like the last day of the school year as a kid, with the anticipation and excitment of promise and adventure that a summer might hold kind of day.
On this occasion, I stumbled upon an in-door consignment shop, pretty large really...to my later giddyness and surprise a treasure trove of knives.
As I walked through the doors I had that overwhelming feeling of luck, a "this is gonna be good" kind of feeling. All my superhero knife senses were tingling! I spotted a darker lit room over in the far corner of the store. This room was absolutely jammed packed from wall to wall and floor to ceiling with the coolest old junk. It screamed, "They're in here man...in here!" Like flies drawn to a fresh cow pattie, I was buzz'in in that direction as fast as my short legs would spin, yet, trying not to draw attention, didn't want anyone getting suspicious on what I knew was coming. BAM! BA-DA-BING, BA-DA-BOOM! My superhero knife senses keen at work! There, futher back in this musty cave of a room,were TWO large knife cases! To make this part of the scratch shorter, is where I bought my first vintage Remington knife that led to my first introduction and first query in to the history and production of Remington knives. But feeling the need to claw onward... the old man who sold me "several"(HA!) of his knives said," Did ya see Lorna? " Lorna?
No, who's she? "She's the knife lady all-ways back yonder in da stow. Yas needs to check width her, she got plenty!" Oh my God! I thought I was going to have a brain hemorrhage, soil myself or something as I tried to find Lorna's hobbit hole! Someone or something to be sure was trying to buy up all her knives before I could get there! I don't know about you but this is the evil, irrational thought that fights against my superhero knife senses and really can be quite embarassing to my wife if she were around but again, my buddies me, myself and I were hanging out and they were just fine with it!
After a long agonizing 5 hours I found it! Reality speed...'bout 5 min..And what to my wondrous eyes should appear...Lorna and her eight large cases of knives my dear! I mean really!! A collectors smorgasbord, a plethora of beauties. Scratch, scratch, scratch...Lorna. Five foot two maybe. A round,gray haired butter ball. A sweet, gentle little smile. Deep lines of liv'in etched about her face, with that expected grand-ma voice," What can I do fer ya young man? " Just look'in, are you Lorna? "Yes and how'd ya come by my name? " The man up front told me about you. " He did huh? " Yes ma'am. " Are ya want'in anythang partic'lar? " This was the beginning of my long, long memorable scratch.
I truly spent 3-4 hours sitting side by side in two old sofa chairs as I received a private showing, provided with stories and all of a portion of Lorna's knives. A private showing into the life of one of my now dear friends. Over time she has shared her life's story, those of her children and of her loving husband and his "passion" for knife collecting. Of how they spent forty five years plus sharing his passion with early morning outings, garage sales, knife shows, trading and all... until he was overcome with cancer and left her side,"a short 10 years ago." Makes it hard to swallow even now, reflecting back. Yes, I bought a few knives from her, payed more than I should. Shared what little knowledge I had, gave her a few new books, told her about some knives and why she was not asking enough and others why she had marked to high. Over time she went from a sweet little ol' lady who was hiding her grief and loss, oppressed by depression, to a rock-n-roll girl, who was knife savey, joined membership in 3-4 knife clubs in the area, sold at shows etc., believe it or not she lost 50 plus pounds by joining a spa, and even went sky diving! I swear! 'Bout fell over when she told me! Last conversation we shared she said," My husband didn't leave me a knife museum, he left me an excit'in business. My husband would have loved this Bryan, I do!" Lorna has been an itch that I throughly enjoy scratching...Truly, a time of renewal.
Thanks for letting me share a few thoughts. - Aremingtonsedge
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