Home Forums Hunting & Shooting Hunter's Campfire Little things…..

Sitting here in my recliner sharpening a knife this morning. Seems like no big deal and probably isn’t to most of you.

The stone I’m using was my grandfathers. He passed Sept 6 2020. He was nothing short of my hero and idol.

The story with this old stone as I remember my pap telling it several times is pretty simple.

My pap was stationed in Kansas with the Air Force. One day in the chow hall he noticed one of his buddies sharpening a kitchen knife on 2 sided stone. He told him “ I sure would like to get my hands on one of those.” About a month or so later out of no where the cook handed him a used stone. Pap had had it ever since.

I was always envious of how pap could put an edge on a Knife with that stone, then strop it on an old leather belt. Always “shaving sharp” as he called it. The hair on our forearms was always tested and the hair peeled off as if cut off with a razor.

Over the years I practiced with that stone and managed to be able to get a decent edge on a knife with it. Not nearly as good as Pap. It became tradition that every September before the archery season opened I’d take a knife up to pap and ask him to sharpen it. He would always say “ you outta be able to do this yourself by now”. I told him that I wasn’t as good as him and it meant more to have him do it. It didn’t matter every September for close to 20 years we went through the same ritual.


After pap passed I inherited that old stone. Worn down from 50 years of sharpening. It means as much to me as any possession I own.


We are coming up on the 3rd season without Pap sharpening my knife before season but I still sit here working away. I manage to get it sharp enough to peel some hairs off the back of my arm and call it good.

The memories don’t ever go away. I can still hear his voice and visiting the cemetery always brings tears to my eyes as it is now. Cherish the time with your loved ones. Hold onto the memories and remember the little things.

Sorry all y'all hard-drivin' macho-men,
it's gettin' kinda misty here.

It may seem little, but those connections are what defines us.


And that is a pretty good one.

Good story...

I have a few things from my grandparents. In the late 70s I lived in my travel trailer on their acreage, they had an old coleman stove thrown in the trash pile. I took it and repainted, got it working and still use it.

My grandmother who taught me how to cook had a yellow pyrex bowl she mixed everything in. I have that and when the granddaughter is mixing in it I tell her about her great great grandmother... and that bowl will be hers.

Kent

Sadder still ? Most under 35 can't even sharpen a knife.

This man most definitely has it figured out.

Well done!

CBB- great story and definite heirloom you have. I am sure he knew you were worthy of appreciating it.

Lost my Dad a year ago. In a sort of reverse way, I discovered some of the things I made or gave Dad, or little things I did for him over the years, mattered a lot more to him than I could have imagined.

Looking back I am so glad I did them.

About a year before he passed he caused a big stir with some siblings for buying a pickup. He always owned them except for two years prior. when a mini van worked better carting my frail mom to and fro. He was catching flack even for that purpose and appreciated my supporting him. After mom passed he wanted another pickup. Everyone (5 siblings) tried to talk him out of it and his reasons for ''needing' one were pretty thin to say the least. When he called me I told him he didn't need a reason as it was his own money and a want was as good as a need for him in my mind. He said he wanted 4WD and I asked wth do you need 4wd??. He gave a half baked answer of going into a lower pasture (which he NEVER did) at my sisters place. He knew how I put my 2wd through all sorts of stuff - often so he need;t take his- and had gotten stuck at my lease without 4wd. I don't think he put 500 miles on that vehicle with half that being the original drive home. He soon knew he could no longer drive and told me to give my truck to my sister and take his. Wife is convinced this was his plan all along. The thing is absolutely wonderful and I thank him every time I get in it- as do some friends of mine that knew him.

Some of the things we inherit when our parents pass on are worthless on the open market, but priceless to us.

I inherited quite a bit of items when they passed. I have two brothers, and we split it all evenly among the three of us. We sat down in their (our) home after we had packed up things we wanted and gave away things we did not. We sold some cars & motorcycles, and all three homes that they owned. The three of us were in our 50s & 60s by then and we had our own homes in the different states we had all moved to following our jobs. It’s kinds hard selling the house we all grew up in as babies to HS graduations.

The three of us cherished different items, and none were the same as the other brothers desires. My oldest brother wanted all of the dishes & silverware. The other brother wanted all of Dad’s tools. I was the only one who wanted Dad’s guns. I take them out of my safe occasionally, mainly just to hold them, …and remember. I haven’t hunted with any of them since I took possession, except for one that I lusted after for many years, an old Marlin lever action in 410 shotgun, built during the depression years of the early 1930s. It was ‘my’ bird hunting gun when Dad and my brothers went hunting. Dad carried his Ithaca 20 ga., Larry took Dad’s Win, model 12, and being the youngest, I hunted the 410 Marlin. I tried to buy that 410 from my Dad when I grew up and moved away, offering him any price he asked. I had memories attached to it. He said he just couldn’t, because it reminded him of his Dad, my Grandpa, who ran a Gambles store in NE. Dad saw it in the store when it came in and fell in love with it. My Grandpa surprised him with a Christmas gift of it when he was a young teenager. I never knew that about the shotgun, and upon hearing the story, I never asked to buy it again.

It’s bittersweet to own it now, but I cherish it.

And no, it’s not for sale…for any price!

My pop born in the twenties. Grew up through the depression. He's gone now and whenever I get to thinking about doing something frivolous, I just look to the top of my tool box. Located there is a pair of his glasses that the hinge for one of the bows broke so he just soldered it in place. Can't get myself to throw them out.

When my folks passed I had to clean up the place. To my delight I found psalms, like in the Bible, my mom had written and hidden in various places around the house. I would move a book from the coffee table and there would be a psalm. Or I might pick up a doily from the end table and there's another. In the cupboard beside the dishes would be another.

My grandma had a couple of cast iron skillets that she used daily for many years. I have one of those and use it to make cornbread. The skillet is over 100 years old. To me, it's priceless.

Great story, and I honor your Granddad.
I never knew either of mine. The Old Man was my mentor. Well, him and John Wayne!
One thing The Old Man wasn’t good at was sharpening knives. He had a good steel while we were butchering to keep the edge up, but he always gave them to a menenite neighbor to get them sharpened.
After I got outta the Army, I got an old stone from a machine shop.
If your patient and hold the angle straight, it’s not that difficult.
The key is holding that angle. If you can do that, you’re golden.
The thing with the younger guys is they’re used to microwave ovens and all the other instant rewards we’ve gotten accustomed to. They never learned patience!
Get a decent stone, put on some music, find a Rhythm and learn to enjoy it.
If you like what you’re doing, it ain’t work!
Reon

Lost my Dad last June. We moved back to PA 5 tlyears ago and moved in with him, then ultimately bought the house from him but he stayed with us. Been a really long, slow process of filtering his "stuff" from my "stuff". I know I can't keep it all, but some of the memories are darn tough to let go. His old style 760 '06 would be the very last worldly possession I'd give up.

CBB: You bring back memories of MY grandfather. He was born and raised on a homesteaded ranch in the Baker City country of SE Oregon.
He could sharpen a knife on a stone!
I try but prefer other methods.
After he had retired sold out and moved to the Puget Sound area of taxington (where I was born) he would return to the eastern Oregon mountains every summer and fall to "relax" while tending sheep in the mountains for his rancher friends. He always took his big gray sharpening stone with him to sharpen his knives for gutting and skinning the Mule Deer he poached up in the mountains for fresh meat.
One of my Uncles got that stone when he passed on.
One "little thing" I got from my father is a blood etched FN 25 caliber pistol he brought home from Europe after WW II - he claimed a German soldier killed himself with it as he was being taken into a prisoner of war camp.
I cherish that humble little pistol and the sacrifices so many human beings made during that conflict that it represents.
Yeah I find much solace in the little things in life.
Hold into the wind
VarmintGuy

Chum, The Old Man bought one of those 760 Gamemastrers in ought 6 the first year they came out. He had an old 336 Marlin in .30/30 that he bought when he got discharged after WW2 up Until then.
But I was hunting then and my younger brother would starting, and there weren’t enough guns to go around.
I was using the 336, my brother used an old M94 in .32 Special, and Dad had the 760. That’s how it went the first 2 days, but when we went back to school on the third day, he took that Marlin back! I used the ought six the rest of the year.
The following summer he bought me a used 788 Remington in .308. It was my honey to God first deer rifle, and “Gue” got the 760.
Dad just liked that old 336 better.
That is until
I went in the Army.
While I was away he fell in love with my.308! When I got out, I bought myself a 77 Ruger in .30/06, and that .308 was Dads for the last 25 years he hunted. He killed his last buck, a 7 point with it at age 86! After the funeral I took it home.
I still load shells for it, and every year I take it out hunting for a day, just for the memories.
It’ll always be “The Old Man’s Gum”.
Reon

I have guns and tools from both grandfathers and my Dad, I think of these men every time I use one of those items.

They were hard men, good men, caring men. they were men that when they said something it mattered. I sure do miss those men.

I have my Dad's hunting rifle. As I have no kids I plan on handing it down to one of my nephews. I already know which one I want to give it to. It is one who would make trips to visit his Grandpa.

Your story reminds me of Dad. I lost him in Feb. of this year. He taught me how to sharpen a knife. I take pride knowing how to do that. Doing it the old-fashioned way, you know the kind of steel your working with. I just can't do a Havalon/Outdoor Edge.

The last thing The Old Man said before he died, he said to Dave and I. “I’ll see you boys on The Big Rock”.
The Big Rock is a boulder the size of a house that hangs outta the steep part of Pleasantville Mountain.
From that ledge you can see down into 3 hollows.
Between my family, we’ve sniped a pile of deer off that rock. Downhill drag to boot!
Dave’s getting old now, something I’m trying (not very successfuly to avoid), so it’s my job now in every deer season to go up there, and leave a beer and a cigarette for The Old Man.
Sometimes I drag that .308 along.
The deer ain’t up there now. They’re down in the valleys where the farms are.
But I love hunting that mountain, just as Dad did.
I told Ben, when I die, cremate me, put my ashes in a mason jar, and give my zzz a good throw from The Big Rock.
My soul will live on, but this mortal coil will be part of the mountain that I love.
Reon