Keep using the things you love ~ June 7, 2001

David Heiller

“Where are all the water bottles?” Cindy hollered from the kitchen on Monday morning. “I just bought two new ones a couple weeks ago.”

“I threw one away. It had a leaky top,” I shouted back. I won’t tolerate a leaky water bottle.

“Where are all the others?” Cindy persisted.

“Water bottles are like jackknives. They have a life of their own,” I answered. I felt very wise with that analogy. The wisdom part didn’t last long. It never does. But it did get me thinking about things—supposedly inanimate things—that come and go seemingly of their own free will.

David loved his water bottles and he used them.
(This was a Christmas of Gustavus Adolphus College gifts from our daughter. 
Of course a Gustie water bottle for Dad was a must... They probably had Gustie jackknives too, but  I imagine that they did not fit a students budget!)

Water bottles are like that. Cindy and I both carry water bottles with us. One day they are sitting on the counter. The next day not a one can be found.

Cigarette lighters fall in the same category. We only use them for lighting the sauna and burning trash. Some days the junk drawer is full of them, and on other days we can’t find any.

How about socks? How can one sock so consistently disappear? Eventually the missing sock turns up, but not always, as the basket of unmatched socks in the laundry room testifies.

To me, jackknives are the granddaddy of self-motivated things. They disappear and re-appear almost on a daily basis. That’s aggra­vating, because I tend to become attached to jackknives in an emotional sense. (And you ladies didn’t think men had feelings.)

Sometimes you can guess how the jackknife disappeared. I remember going on a winter camping trip with my son several years ago. I gave him my Schrade Old-Timer, a knife that I had bonded with. But the trip was a bit dangerous and I wanted him to have the best knife possible. We came back safely. When I asked for the knife a few days later, Noah said he couldn’t find it. I figured the knife was in a pair of pants that he had worn. But his pants had disappeared too, as you will understand if you have teenage children.

David and the Christmas
 of jackknife-gifts.

The next winter, when Noah put on a pair of his winter pants, guess what he found in the pocket? My trusty knife! The funny part is that I lost it again shortly after that, and it still hasn’t shown up. But it might someday. That’s one of the positive things about jackknives—when they finally reappear, they do so with the fan-fare of the prodigal son, at least in the minds of the average male. (And you ladies thought us guys were emotional cripples.)

I could go on and on about knives I’ve lost and found. But I will end on a serious note. People do get attached to certain items. Jackknives are one of those items for me. I have a couple that I really, really treasure. One used to be my dad’s. I never knew my dad. He died four months before I was born. But the knife was in our family when I was growing up. My brother Danny and I used it a lot. Someone—probably Danny—snapped off a blade when he tried to pry something with it. The other blade didn’t close all the way, and if you reached for it carelessly, it would stab you. Remember how I said knives had a life of their own?

Danny had the knife for many years, and one day he gave it to me, which meant a lot. I had a friend grind down the broken blade so that it now has a point and can be used. Another friend fixed the other blade so that it closes all the way and is no longer a threat. Now the knife is better than ever.

This knife has a wooden handle that has soaked up decades of sweat and dirt, mine, my brother’s, my dad’s. I showed it to a knife dealer a couple years ago, thinking it might be unique. He said it was called an electrician’s knife, a very common knife, not valuable at all. Except to me.

My other special knife is a battered Swiss Army Knife. My wife gave it to me for our wedding 21 years ago. It has disappeared a time or two, but it usually comes right back.

I keep a close eye on it, but I keep using it. I don’t want to tuck it away in a drawer. It’s important to keep using knives that you like. That’s what makes them special. You shouldn’t hide the things you love.