As a child, my father always placed great value on a knife. " My knife is part of me, I feel naked without it," he would often remark. We spent most of our time together in the outdoors. We would go fishing, turkey tracking, practice archery, and hunt whitetails. Of course, my mother wasn't fond of a child owning a sharp object, so they were kept from my grasp. I remember visiting a cousin who brought me into his room to show me his knife collection. From that point, the knife became the pinnacle of tools in my mind. It wouldn't be many years until I was able to hold my own knife in my hands.