The following story was published in the February issue of Good Old Days.

The Old Paring Knife

Copyright by Emma L. Willey     

          One day at a garage sale, I rummaged through some junk and spotted an old paring knife.  “Wait a minute,” I muttered to myself. “This knife looks vaguely familiar.”  I picked if up, turned it over and over in my hand.  Where had I seen this knife before?  It had a rounded wooden handle and it was obvious the blade was well-used.  For some reason, I had to have it, whatever the price.

          "What do you want for this old knife?" I asked the clerk.

          "Oh, a quarter, I guess," she said. Quickly I handed her the quarter, slipped the knife into my purse and left. 

          Weeks later, I got ready to prepare dinner for my husband and me; my potatoes waited in the sink to be peeled, and I reached into the utensil drawer for a knife.

          "I guess I'll see how this old knife works,” I said to myself.  I started peeling, and suddenly I was a little girl again helping my mother in the kitchen of the old farmhouse back on the prairie in South Dakota.  A huge kettle of potatoes boiled away on the wood stove and Mama was busy taking her baked beans out of the oven, cooking for the threshing crew that day. I could smell the large roast beef in the oven and two golden pumpkin pies setting on the counter waiting to be cut into large wedges to serve to the hungry crew.

          I saw about a dozen hungry men sitting around our long dining room table trying to see who could tell the tallest tale.  I saw a huge bowl of steaming mashed potatoes with a big glob of butter in the center; a  large bowl of crisp, refreshing green salad; pork chops piled high on a platter; a large crock of baked beans spreading their pungent aroma; buttered peas and onions fresh from the garden and pickles and jelly Mama had taken from the pantry shelf for the occasion.  To top it all off, the smell

of a long loaf of home made bread sat on the sideboard waiting to be cut into thick, crunchy slices.  

            Oops!  I was supposed to be peeling potatoes for two and already I had enough for at least eight people.  The old paring knife made me forget what I was doing.  I would have missed all those precious memories had I not gone to that garage sale and found my old paring knife.

The End