generations

  While it's true that young people ought to listen to old people, because by and large, old people know more about life, the universe, and everything, than young people.  It's inevitable.  Listening to old people - preferably more than one, because opinions are a thing - can help smooth one's path through life.

 But it bugs the everlovin' crap outta me when old people won't listen to young people.  Where do you think fresh ideas come from? (mostly) Old people need young people to provide the occasional fresh take. And conversely, young people need old people so they can know when their fresh take, isn't.

 Suprahz, suprahz, suprahz, the generations need each other!

 Besides which, some people do most of their learning via back & forth conversation, others in a structured theory environment, still others learn best through their hands.  I can do all of those things, always could, because like many of my generation, we were given the tools to be autodidacts.  Now that kids are being hamstringed by doing hard time in Drill School, and thus finding it difficult to self-instruct later, it is more important than ever for us Old Farts™ to engage with the young ones who share our interests.

 Let No Craftsman-Nerds Be Left Behind.

 The other day, I found a small Buck pocket knife - an older one - which I long ago found rusting in the yard, and fixed up real nice - weeks of once-in-a-while effort.  It's nearly as good as new now, and you can shave with either blade.  Why?  I have no use for such a thing, I always have my Leatherman on me, and if I need more tool than that, it usually means I'm in my home or shop anyway. 

 The answer is this: once upon a time, there was a tradition among men and boys - well, those of us not born with silver spoons in our mouths - when a young man would receive his first knife, along with a lecture, from Dad, Granddad, or sometimes an Uncle.  This happened with me, even though I didn't have any of those male peers in my life.  I'm ashamed to say I don't know which friends or neighbor played standin.

 The knife was always a small two or three-bladed "gentleman's pocket knife" kind of thing.  No belt pouch.

 The lecture had to do with safety, mostly in handling, and also about behavior incumbent upon anyone carrying anything that might be dangerous.  Boy Scoouts of America had a whole structure for it - with good training and merit badges to supposedly prove "I Get It", and an utterly useless Victorinox knife at the end. :)

 All the major brands ran ads supporting this tradition aimed at the boys not just the adults!  So you saw "his first knife" ads, which might not even SAY that, but they would SHOW Granddad handing a knife to a kid, and the kid receiving it like it was mana from heaven - in both Boys Life (to build expectation, LOL) but also Outdoor Life and the like to get the adults onboard.  It was mentioned in literature.  It was a real social phenom the knife companies were capitalizing on, not a commercial creation.

 So now I've got this nice little presentation Buck knife which, depending on how old it is, is made of either nice steel or VERY nice steel.  Their logo is a hammer on a knife cutting a soft steel bolt, remember.  Not sure how to tell whether the scales are horn or nylon or what.  But see, I don't have kids nor have I an uncle role with any family.  We knew someone who wanted me to be a godfather but that was a special situation I had to say no to.  And it was never something I looked for, I am not parent material, so I mostly don't like kids until they're old enough to have an intelligent conversation with. ;)

 So the knife lurks in my tool chest, and whenever I see it, I wish I had someone, maybe not even a kid, just someone younger than me, someone who is where I was in my twenties, that I could mentor, to pass on what I have learned so far.  It's not so much wanting to pass along the knife itself, but rather doing what it represents.  I feel a debt toward my community for having who and what I have in my life, and I want those things for my fellow handicapped, broken, ubernerds who press on through life against all odds.  I want others to enjoy what privilege I enjoy, and I want them to feel it as I do.

  The word 'apprentice' is not appropriate here because one apprentices to a Master, not a Journeyman, and I am barely the latter, and not formally - I have  no formal schooling in anything.  I say I am a "journeyman" because while I don't always know the answers off the cuff as a Master might, I always know where to look to find them.  Usually in a book.  >_>

 Or maybe I'm just lonely.