One of my favorite possessions is my tiny red Swiss Army Knife. It’s missing a toothpick and dull as all hell, but I will never take it off my keychain. I’m not usually sentimental about objects (I wear jewelry from old boyfriends without a thought, and accept fully that I will eventually break almost everything I own. It’s in my nature) but this is one of the few things I will fight for.
It’s probably because my mom told me, when she gave it to me years and years ago, that she would kill me if I ever threw it out. When she was nine years old, she bought her woodsman dad this stupid, useless little knife as a gift. Years later, after he died, she relinquished it to me, after much begging on my part. I’ve had it for over ten years now, and amazingly, I have yet to lose it. On occasion, I will forget to take this “weapon” off my keychain, but it’s never been a real problem. It’s flown across the Atlantic with me and attended numerous concerts, despite the metal detectors—turns out, even the steeliest security guard can’t resist a teary girl with a sob story about her granddad.
Anyway, all that is to say that I have a weird soft spot for knives. I bought my little sister a scrimshaw knife for her birthday this year—complete with an engraving of her initials—and one of my other favorite possessions is a knife that was given to me by my community service group in college (it’s engraved with the message: “Dear Katy, Thank you for your thoughtful and beautiful contribution.” I treasure it.) Given all that info, it’s not surprising that I am crazy about the newest iteration of the classic Victorinox knife. Here it is. Isn’t it lovely?