Patrick DePeters

Pocketknives always fascinated me as a youth. I believed it to be fantastic that one object, filled with gizmos and gadgets, could aid someone in completing the fundamental tasks—that is, for survival. A boy’s first pocketknife is like a giant step onto the plateau of adulthood, independence, self-reliance, and responsibility. My first pocketknife, a hand-me-down from my father, marked a complex change in my ideology and myself image, despite the simplicity of the pocketknife itself.

This pocketknife, just like the many that followed it, almost always went with me into my sanctuary, the woods, whereupon I had the opportunity to have “freedom and wildness” as Henry David Thoreau would say. In distancing myself from societal thinking, I was subconsciously practicing Transcendentalism—and in the process, becoming an individual. I now see that Ralph Emerson’s conviction that “envy is ignorance; that imitation is suicide,” but that was not always the case. As young boy, imitation was popularity, and popularity was success. I now grasp that intuition, derived from my own experiences and my original conclusions, was the only means to sincere truth.

Many people could not empathize with me (especially as a youth) about the importance of a pocketknife, and they stereotypically connected pocketknives to hunting, or malicious crime. I simply liked them because they provided me with a sense of security and self-confidence necessary in order for me to embark out on my own; a characteristic I had lacked as an immature pre-teen. I yearned for the occasion that my improvident acquaintances were less prepared for daily activities and did not boast a pocketknife for themselves.  I wanted to be lost in the woods, so I could see if the included compass really did work. Any nuts or bolts that I saw unfastened, on anything, even if it was not my own, I felt the need to tighten—simply because I could and I wanted to reassure myself that it was necessary to have a pocketknife. I also relied on my pocketknife to provide me with the essential tools needed for pragmatic problem solving.

Long after I’ve outgrown my pocketknife phase, the scars from accidental mishaps, my initials carved into a few trees, and the memories of my wild explorations and capricious personality remain. The self confidence and self-reliance that I garnered from pocketknives was critical in my maturation as an individual. My pocketknife is like an unwritten journal of my youth. I position my favorite one next to my computer as I write this essay, and I reminisce about all of my memories associated with that knife. I think back to my first-time camping in the deciduous forests of Connecticut. I think back to the reassuring feeling of being safe when I was lost and disconnected from my home’s familiar milieu. The blood that I lost from miscalculated strikes upon a stick represents the beauty of my imperfections and the omnipresence of my vulnerability. The magnetic rod, labeled north and south that, when unfolded, would lead me towards or away from civilization. All of these anecdotes are commensurate to the profundity of influence that my pocketknife had on me. Now, I prepare for unknown territories and experiences in a different way. I have realized that the pocketknife is no longer practical for me to carry around, mostly because I no longer need it to assure me that I can trust myself as an independent and confident individual.   Times change and I have grown and matured but my dusty and trusty Swiss Army Knife remains in my heart, regardless of if it resides in my pocket.