Mount Airy, North Carolina, USA (Circa 1964): When I was young, and for many generations before me, a right of passage was the gift of a pocket knife from "Dad"...
A pocket knife has been my constant companion since childhood. In the world of today, I must often leave my knife behind for reasons of "security". When I was young, and for many generations before me, a right of passage was the gift of a pocket knife from "Dad". Usually this knife was a Barlow knife. Dating back to the 18th century, the Barlow knife was a hefty, sturdy, inexpensive folding knife with one or two clip style carbon steel blades. When and where the Barlow came into existence is in dispute, but it was a distinctly American knife even if it originated in England (the British exported nearly all production). Barlows came with handles as varied as iPod covers are today, thus, your Barlow was always special. You can still find many examples of this classic knife on the web.
The Barlow could be used for many things, some good, some not. If you had an apple for a snack, your Barlow could cut it into slices to share with your buddies. If you got bored, you could whittle a stick of wood into something whimsical. Strangely, the most popular thing for me and my buddies to whittle was: knives, with elaborate handles. Animal heads were popular. The smaller blade was good for scraping off warts. The warts always came back, though. Many inanimate objects felt the bite of the blade, including trees and school desks. I was a good boy, so I let the school desks alone. My dad helped me carve a great longhorn steer out of a block of balsa wood!
Dad also taught me to care for the Barlow, which involved sharpening on a whetstone, honing on a steel, and oiling to prevent rust. Although I am sure that you could break a Barlow, they were awfully tough and none of mine ever broke. Eventually, you lost one though. They were hard on pockets and would sort of wear their way out to slide to the ground while you were running or some such. If you found one on the ground, it was useless, having been eaten away by rust.
Many adults today would be horrified at the thought of giving a knife to a boy of eight or nine. They would be even more horrified to know that we took them out on the school playground in full view of school staff! Indeed, one of the first things that you did with your Barlow was to cut yourself (accidentally, of course) after which you respected the blade and never cut yourself again. If you cut someone else, accidentally or on purpose, that knife was immediately gone for a very long time! After school and on weekends, we ventured into the woods with our Barlows in our pockets – and our hatchets and Bowie knives on our belts!
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