This was my daddy's knife. It's still not mine really. If someone asks me if it's my knife I say no...this was my dad's knife. Automatically. It will never be my knife. It will always be his. It will always be everything about him. Simple. Reliable. Timeless.
He may as well left me a million dollars. I wouldn't take that much for it I promise on my mom. What my dad left me was priceless. I got to pick it out. I knew it was a good one he liked. A Case 2 blade 22087 made in the USA. Therefore it became the one I loved.
This knife of his I take care of is a blade that cuts to the marrow like a razor to the memories I carry along with me today. Not the regrets, but the good things. Times wears away bitterness like water on smooth river stones I believe. It becomes such a beautiful sound.
Anyway, this is my dad's knife.
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