"Can I Borrow Your Pocket Knife?"

I never tired of hearing my Dad tell humorous stories about his work. Most of them were not the knee-slapping, ROFL (rolling on the floor laughing) type of stories that you would expect. Usually, they were just simple incidents involving, simple people, that had a wealth of uncommon sense and homespun humor.

In the 1960's, Elmer Riggs Construction built the concrete base for the new water tower on "Standpipe Hill" in West Plains. Elmer (Popo) was my Grandpa and at this time, Dad was part of the crew that worked for him. If you go south on Aid Avenue from Court Square in West Plains, climb the big hill past the "High Rise", you can't miss the big blue water tower at the top, on the west side of the street. It sits in "Gene Jones Park" on the highest point in West Plains.

Dad always carried a pocket knife. A sharp pocket knife. I can still picture him sitting at the kitchen table, legs crossed at the knee, with his pocket knife and little whet stone, sharpening in his peculiar circular fashion. His whet stone always had the center wore out like a dish because of how he sharpened his knife.

Dad's fellow workers came to know that he always had a sharp knife. So... Occasionally, during the course of a day, one of them would ask to borrow his knife for some task. Dad would oblige but many times, the knife would come back in worse shape than it left... Dull and dirty.

One morning before he arrived at "Standpipe Hill" for work, Dad found an old pocket knife. From his description, I really can't figure out why he would pick it up. It was rusted, the handles were missing, the blades were broken... something best left just lying where you found it! But... for some reason, he picked it up and put it in his pocket.

While they were working, it so happened that one of Dad's co-workers asked "Leamon, can I borrow your pocket knife?" Now... I'm not too sure but this could have been the reason Dad picked up the old knife in the first place. And this was the moment he had been waiting for!

Dad reached into his pocket, pulled out the old wreck of a pocket knife and handed it to the fellow...

From my recollection, this is how Dad recounted the man's reaction: "He stared at the knife for a little bit and without saying a word, started to dig around in the coins in his pocket. He pulled out a penny, stuck it into the slot where the blades go and then rared back and threw it off down the hill into the brush!"

Dad was a little shocked at the man's reaction but at the same time, curious. He could understand throwing the knife off down the hill but why put a penny in it first? Good luck? Tradition? Prevent bad luck? So, Dad proceeded to ask him, "Why did you put a penny in it before you threw it away?" The man's answer was classic...

"I put a penny in it because I wanted to say I was throwing something away!"

So... If you ever get down to where you don't have "A Penny To Your Name", you might want to start looking in this patch of woods for and old decrepit pocket knife... with a penny stuck in it....