Cutsforth Family History & Genealogy
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Remember Grandpa sitting in his favorite easy-chair, his jackknife in hand whittling toys and whistles for the grandkids...or using his trusty knife to fix Grandma's electric iron, toaster, and other gadgets...stopping now and then to whittle off a chaw from his plug of 'tobaccy.
Around the barn, Grandpa's jackknife cut the strings off the bales of hay and straw, cut the leather hides into strips to fix the harness of the saddle, or cut out leather half-soles to repair the family shoes. They were all cut and trimmed with Grandpa's jackknife.
His fingernails,toenails and corns were cleaned and trimmed with care and dexterity.
At lambing and piggie time, the jackknife was used as a veterinarian instrument to castrate the young males...but first holding it over a flame to sterilize it.
Grandpa Dale always carried a pencil in his pocket...usually a large flat carpenters pencil. It was a short stub but he kept it meticulously sharpened with his knife. After every hearty meal the jackknife served as an effective toothpick.
If Grandma hadn't shortened those new overalls, he would get out his knife and cut off the legs before stuffing them into his rubber boots.
It was his skinning and butchering knife at slaughter time and it cut the hog fat into cubes to be rendered into lard.
It was also used for pleasure to open hazel nuts and walnuts, or cutting apples into bite-size pieces, or shaving the deer-jerky into slivers for himself and the grandkids to eat.
It was THE all-time instrument on those yearly deer hunting trips. You hate to think what he would have done without that trusty jackknife. It cut the kindling for those early morning bonfires boiling the big camp-pot of steaming coffee, and cut the long willow sticks, sharpened to a point, for roasting marshmallows, hot dogs, and toasted bread.
And that year they went to Southern Oregon to hunt in the hills around Riddle where he had lived as a boy...that jackknife went along in his pocket. Sitting by the bonfire reminiscing, he said, "Got me a nice buck today, all skinned out and hanging in the deer bag. Now what can I do? Well..., I can eat that boiled tongue we brought from home," he boasted as he reached into the camp cooler.
He pulled out his jackknife and cut off a big chunk. The yellow-jacket bees also detected the smell of food and began landing on the chunk of meat skewered on his jackknife. "Shoo, shoo, you pesky jackets," he warned the intruders between bites, waving his hand over the meat. Each time he waved...except the time he was watching the camp-robber birds boldly landing on the grub box.
Taking another bite, Grandpa got one of those angry bees in his mouth.
He danced around, spitting, slobbering, and swinging his jackknife at them. "Ma! Help! I'm stung...here on the end of my tongue. Help! Get the soda box! It's swelling. I won't be able to get my tongue back in my mouth! Help me, Ma!"
Grandma gently pushed the protruding tongue back in his slobbering mouth and said, "Now sit down and shut up. You're okay!"
"I thought maybe I'd have to get my jackknife and cut my tongue off, it was swelling so big. I suppose I'd have to sterilize it in the bonfire first and then wait for it to cool. I wouldn't want to burn myself. But them, if I cut off my tongue, I wouldn't be able to talk, would I?"
Grandma chuckled to herself, "Now, that would be the day!"
Written by Lillian Lewis Cutsforth