When I was eight my brother and sister pitched in together to get me a pocket knife for Christmas. It was a great Boy-Scout style knife; "Diamond Edge" brand with bottle-opener/screwdriver blade, a large knife blade, an awl and a can opener blade. Not a wimpy little pretend can opener but a really good, perfectly functioning one. I was still using it to open giant cans of sour-kraut the summer I was 17 with a job in the local Bavarian restaurant. (Behind the boss' back because it worked better than his expensive-professional-restaurant-supply-company-table-mounted one and that made him mad.)
It eventually wore out by the time I was 22 or so. Metal fatigue took its toll and the can-opener finally broke off. I guess I must have been relating this story to my girl-friend while we searched for it; lost - fallen out of my pocket while swinging too high on the playground swings near her apartment. We eventually found my tired old knife and she spiced the story away for later reference.
A year or so later we got engaged to be married and she explained that we should have an exchange of gifts at an engagement party to celebrate. When the day of the party arrived and it was time to exchange out tokens of betrothal, she handed me a nicely wrapped little box about an inch by 3/4 of an inch by about 3 inches long. I then handed her a similarly wrapped little box about an inch by 3/4 of an inch by about 3 inches long. As you've guessed, the boxes contained matching pocket knives. Swiss Army ones no less. We figured it had to be more than a coincidence. It was a sign that we were made for each other!
That was in 1987. We're still married and I don't feel dressed without my Swiss-Army Knife.
Last Updated on Mon, May 19, 2008.