Memories - 2

Okeedoakee. I'm deep into remembering the basement. I have my studio in our basement, but it is such a different animal than the basement of my youth.

That basement was a wonderful place. Cement floors and unfinished walls were divided into various rooms. The great furnace was endlessly fascinating. It was filled with coal, the ashes had to be cleaned out periodically, and it was controlled by a simplistic little lever in the dining room wall just above.

Dad used it to melt lead in a long handled deal. Then he would pour the lead into molds to make lead soldiers. Now there is so much fuss over lead, but we didn't know the perils of that substance at the time.

I think I was about fourteen when I remember his taking a lump of iron and heating it in the furnace. He held it in a plier and put it as a red hot lump on an anvil. He hammered it, heated it anew and hammered again, until he had fashioned a knife. It took a long time to get it just right and to his requirements.

Now he had a hunting knife blade attached to an elongated piece. He cut circles of thick leather and threaded them over the elongated piece to make the handle, topping it off with a bolt that he told me was from his son-in-law's submarine. It was a hunting knife. He incised "L. Vick" on the side of the handle and gave it to me. It is one of my most valued possessions. I realized that people could make things for pleasure, but also for use. I must admit I have never actually gone hunting or used my knife, but every time I look at it I know the pleasure of being singled out for a gift. A gift that I had seen made from start to finish.

Take care.