Hey all,
OK, this story might get a bit windy, but I can't help it. You might want to bail out now if you aren't in the mood to read a good story about a knife.
I'm assuming that if you are still here, you are with me till the end. I'll try and be brief..... Here it goes....
I'm 44 years old this year. On December 28th last year I lost my roommate, my Mentor, my shooting buddy, my very BEST FRIEND, my Dad. I still think of him and miss him every single day. It's still raw for me. My eyes fill with tears just writing about it.
My Dad was never an outdoorsman. Sure we would fish together every now and again, but he didn't hunt. Not that he was against it, it just wasn't his thing. You know the type I'm sure.
Well when I 8 or 9 years old we used to go to a local flea market every Sunday that was in a Drive In Movie lot. Remember those? I remember it clear as day. We would look at all the stuff people had and somewhere along the way we would run into a BIG car with the trunk open and full of knives of all kinds. I made my Dad stop each time we came to his car so I could look. From the very first time I looked in that trunk a single knife caught my eye. It was a fixed blade in a black sheath with a pearl type material for a handle. I asked to look at it every time we stopped. Then I would ask my Dad for it and he would always answer the same "NO!" In the car on the way home I would beg and probably cry for that knife that I wanted so bad. One day we stood there looking at that knife in my hands and once again I asked if I could have it and to my amazement my Dad said "OK" this time and got out the money and paid the man for it. I'm sure he was so glad he wouldn't have to see me anymore. The knife wasn't expensive, I think it only cost 8 or 9 dollars, but I didn't care. I LOVED THAT KNIFE.
When we got home I wanted to "play" with it, but had to get a lecture about being safe first. I had all kinds of fun with that knife. I would carry it around on my belt imagining myself getting into all kinds of situations where my trusty pearl handled knife would save me and the day.
As I grew older the knife went into a drawer. I had other things on my mind and had little need for my old knife. The sheath was gone, the pommel on the end was loose, the spacers were not right, it was a mess. For years it sat in an old roll top desk drawer in our house where I would run across it from time to time while looking for something else. I didn't care about the knife anymore.
Well my Mom and my Dad divorced and Mom took all the desk to her new house. I didn't care. I moved out on my own and the house was sold. My Mom remarried and I would visit them all the time. My Mom is really good at reminding me of stuff that she runs across that she thinks might be mine. She never mentioned a knife and naturally since I was in college and chasing girls 24/7 I wasn't thinking or caring about it. I never asked her about it.
A few more years pass and my Mom moves to another house and brings all her stuff with her. I had forgotten about the knife. A few more years pass and my Dad comes to live with me. We had a great time together for several years. He LOVED going to the shooting range with his pistols that I bought him over the years and practicing. I would just sit there, load his magazines for him and watch him shoot. I would remind myself how lucky I was. Everything was great until this time last year when we lost him.
My sister lived in Florida with her family and my Mom and her husband always wanted to move down here to be closer to the grandkids and since I could no longer live in the apartment my Dad and I shared I agreed to make the move too. So we all packed up and headed south. Yet another move for my Mom. The roll top desk had long since disappeared. Probably in a yard sale or something my mom had over time. Of course I didn't know anything about that old knife, I had forgotten about it.
While my Dad was still with me I started shooting a bow again, a WARF Recurve. Not long after that I went ahead and got a longbow to add to my toys. I hunted a few times back in Ohio with my bows, but never got a shot.
The bows came with me to Florida and since I visited here a lot anyway, I would read up about all the hog hunting that was available down here. Now that I was living here I was going to have some fun chasing these hogs. I started putting my hunting gear together and seeing what I needed. I had no knife. So I started looking for a decent hunting knife. I was pretty set on buying a couple of MORA knives to use. I hadn't bought them yet.
About a month ago I was over at my Moms house spending the weekend with them. I was lying in bed and a thought just crossed my mind, "I wonder what ever happened to that old pearl handled knife my Dad bought me when I was a kid?" I thought about it a while and came to the conclusion that there had been so many moves from when I had last seen it and since my Mom had never mentioned anything about a knife to me, it was gone to history. It made me sad that it was gone. I was mad that I didn't take better care of it. It was the only knife my Dad ever bought me. Oh well, nothing I could do about it now, it was gone.
About a week later I was over at my Moms place for dinner and I needed some duct tape for a finger tab I was experimenting with. Since my Mom doesn't allow smoking in the house I went out to the garage to smoke and look for that duct tape. I looked all over that garage and couldn't find that tape. I was aggravated. I was almost done with my smoke and I thought "I'll take one more look on those shelves, it has to be there." I looked all over without success and then I seen a white 5 gallon bucket at knee level that I had only glanced in the first time around. From my first glance I seen it had car washing stuff in it and didn't give it a second look. Why would tape be in there, I thought.
This time I tilted the bucket out and underneath some brushes and a sponge I seen a knife blade, a very rusty one poking out. I thought "what in the world is this?" I moved things out of the way to see what kind of knife this was in this wash bucket and to my absolute amazement I was looking at that pearl handle. I would recognize that knife anywhere!
I grabbed it up and for a moment I just stood there stunned at what had happened. I couldn't believe I was holding this treasure from my childhood that connected me and my Dad. The only thing is that it wasn't so much of a treasure anymore. The blade was absolutely caked with rust, the handle was scratched and dirty, it was loose and was in poor shape. I didn't know if it could ever be brought back. I knew that this time I would never let it get away from me no matter what shape it was in.
I set about trying to find someone to rehab my newly found prized possession. I read back through the posts on here and other Trad sites trying to find someone to do it. I wasn't having any luck at all. I posted and asked for help. Someone here told me to get in touch with Mr. Sam Koger that he done that type of work for a couple other people on here.
I waited a couple of days and was a bit leery about asking someone to do this work for me. I didn't want to burden anyone. I thought about it and took a chance and emailed Mr. Koger to see what he would say. I explained the situation and asked if he could bring my knife back where I could use it again. Without seeing a picture or anything else, his very first response to me told me not to try and remove any rust and he would be glad to help me. He even included his cell number for me to call him if I needed.
I was thrilled to say the least. I went straight to the Post Office and sent my knife to Kentucky for his bench. He warned me that it might take him a while as he was busy with other things. I didn't care. All I knew was that he was going to fix my knife for me. I couldn't wait to get it back.
Over the next couple of weeks I left Mr. Koger alone and didn't contact him. I finally emailed him and he told me he might have my knife done and in the mail by the weekend. Sure enough he sent me a message telling me that he had sent my knife back to me. He then stunned me by telling me not to worry about the money for the work or even the shipping and wished me a MERRY CHRISTMAS!! This is just too good to be true I thought.
Of course I waited for the mailman to deliver that box. I knew it was coming. The wait was killing me! The day finally came and the box arrived. I wondered what I would see when I opened the box. When I got it open and unwrapped I stood there in disbelief at what I was looking at. It was the knife I had when I was a kid, the same knife I remember all those years ago. It was beautiful! It was clean and polished and everything was nice and tight on it. It was ready for whatever I wanted to use it for. Holding that knife brought back so many memories, my Dad has to be smiling down on me. I was like a kid with a new toy. Getting that knife back and seeing how Mr. Koger fixed it for me, gave me something I thought was lost forever. Sure it's not a name brand knife or worth a lot of money, but to me a price couldn't be placed on it. It wouldn't matter anyway cause it's not going anywhere this time. All I need to complete the package is a black sheath like it came with. When I get that I hope to take my first animal with a TRAD bow and field dress it with my "new" knife. I think Dad would like that.
And that is my CHRISTMAS KNIFE STORY!!!
I apologize for the length, but I wanted you all to know the WHOLE STORY.
I also want you all to know what a first rate man Mr. Sam Koger is. He didn't know me from Adam and yet he agreed to do this knife work for me. He was gracious, friendly and generous beyond words. I'd never be able to express my thanks to him and how happy he has made me with his work and actions.
Thank YOU Mr. Koger.........
Nalajr (Larry)
Topic: My Christmas Knife Story...... (Read 820 times)
