I took a sick day today. I won’t go into too much detail other than to say it is a chronic gastric disorder. In between trips to the toilet or to rehydrate, I decided to go through a couple cedar chests that I haven’t opened in a good many years.
Both were full of knives that, in most cases, I forgot I had ever owned. Call it age. Call it the lingering effects of a stroke. In any case, a fair few of them were new to me today. Some of them are worth a not inconsiderable amount. I will give them to my daughter when she graduates from HS next month. She can do what she wants with them.
They make me sad because I can’t remember why they mattered to me in the first place.
Think of it as growing. Your daughter means something to you, but knives, not so much anymore.
Similar story: my high school reunion is coming up. I went through the yearbook, and I recall a lot of the names, but not WHY I know the names. Were those people mean to me? Nice to me? Went to my elementary school? I have no idea. I like to think I have put my high school angst finally behind me.
I’m sorry. I had a similar experience recently. I’ve had a large family cedar chest for years. I haven’t touched it other than to use it as a staging area for putting clothes away. This summer I finally opened it. So that’s where my sweater went, and the baby quilts from the relatives, and various other things. I had forgotten completely. Some of the items I didn’t recognize at all.
I put it down to not using those things for 12 years or more. I understand why this makes you sad, but “out of sight, out of mind” is real.
They are high-end factory knives, straight and folders, from the 80s and early 90s for the most part. Couple custom items from makers I am not sure are still alive, much less active. I moved these chests from home to home without ever opening them,
You are right, stuff like that could be valuable. I have seen high end knife sale cases that were locked so folks could not take them down without the salesperson.
I love, love this. I clean out storage areas just on the chance I may find a forgotten box or item. I recently unearthed a tin box and opened it to find my Mothers sewing things. Her scissors alone brought me to tears. They were a prized possession of hers. I may be mistaken but they might have been her Mothers scissors.
ETA, I’m gonna put a note in that box in case they are found later by one of my kids and I have died or forgotten.
I have a few unopened cartons, from when I relocated from NYC in 1995. I guess they’re filled with “stuff that I’ll need someday.” I’m afraid to open them.
Some months back I noticed I hadn’t touched a certain jazz guitar in over five years–it had been in its case under my wife’s piano for so long. I had wanted to love it when I got it, and I had dreamed about it for a couple of years before I bought it.
But it never meant anything to me. Rather than deal with the hassles of selling it online or having weird folks coming to my house I simply asked an old guitar teacher to make me an insane lowball offer for it, which I accepted.
The thing is, he is regularly gigging with it and getting enjoyment; I am happy to not have it being a burden to me–an expensive item that didn’t bring me joy. We are both happier now.
One of the nice things about getting older. You tend to value your friends and family more and your trinkets less.
I’ve collected a few things over the years and can now give them away as gifts to younger people who appreciate them or sell them to a collector who will enjoy them as I did. I have a collection of historical images that I will scan for personal use and then off they go. I’ll still have the images to enjoy and the money will go towards retirement.
I have hundreds of beer glasses, many duplicates among them. I have maybe 6 that are in my regular rotation. When my gf grabbed one for her desk at work, I said, “NO! Not that one”.
Knives too. The other day I stumbled across three identical Kershaw assist-open knives, all three new. Very nice knives, the kind you’d use as an EDC. Those knives were like an earworm for two days. I finally remembered getting them as a woot close out for a really good price. I sharpened them and put them away.
No mocking here, Scumpup - in fact, I get it. I have a bunch of knifes as well, all but my every day carry (actually a small multi tool) live in a container in the top of my closet. The first knife I ever owned lives there. Many moons ago, when I was about 5-6 years old my mom dragged me along with her to a large flea market. She gave me a penny (told ya it was many moons ago) and sent me of on my own so she could look around unhindered (it was a really long time ago!). With the penny I bought a smiley face button, then a bit later traded the button for an old, rusty hunting knife with a bare tang. That one I remember well. When we got home Dad was impressed with my haggling skills. Most likely the button vendor and knife vendor got a chuckle out of negotiating with a munchkin and decided to humor me. I tried to trade the knife for a minibike, but apparently there ain’t that much humor in the world. Probably a third of them, though, don’t trigger memories anymore. I know they’re there, but I can’t recall when or where I got them. I get them out every once in a while, make sure they are sharp and in good working order, then put them back.