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It was another time, of course -- a time when young and arguably manly men -- owned/needed/carried a jack knife. It was not a time when every cough and hiccup resulted in a trip to a medical unit of some kind or mothers cooed and gawped and expressed dismay that little Johnny might hurt himself. A knife?! An actual knife?! My child?! It was a time when blood, in one form or another, was part of growing up and care-givers were adept at their own versions of triage.
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Here's Wikipedia on the subject. And a more loose-limbed description.
Actually, I think it wasall a bit boring, but when contrasted with those who are Miracle-Glued to their "apps," perhaps it is just a bit of genius gone begging. Blood, after all, has a certain serious quotient.
In my youth I whittled, though never achieving much more than staying busy.
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