A boy's toy

Let's hear it for the humble pocket knife:

Gary chuckled and asked what in the world I'd do with a small knife, maybe kill time by whittling on the back porch, sort of like Opie and Andy down in North Carolina a lifetime ago? In truth, I've carried around a pocketknife since first acquiring one as a Cub Scout, and would no sooner leave the house without it than my watch or set of keys.

[. . .]

The apparently unfashionable—still breaking news to me—pocketknife has any number of important functions, and clipping your toenails with the mini-scissors is just one. I use it to open packages, slitting the tape, or to pop a blister. Not so long ago, it was the perfect tool to cut newspaper articles, which I'd then fold and put in a back pocket—and still do on the increasingly rare instances when I'm the print version of a daily newspaper in, say, a dentist's office, on a train or in a cab. Sometimes, when trying to negotiate the impossibly tight plastic on a bottle of mustard, ketchup or Tylenol, it's a lot easier (and safer) to cut the wrapper with a small blade than a kitchen knife. And yes, at times I do like to whittle (a habit my younger son has picked up, much to the astonishment of his brother), stripping the bark off a stray branch and coming up with a splendid, and wholly organic, thanks, spear.

Exactly so. I can't imagine not having my Swiss Army knife on me; it's one accessory that will never go digital. Hardly a day goes by that I don't use at least one of its features -- the scissors or the punch or the tweezers. Sometimes, I even use one of the two knife blades. The small one is perfect for slicing open the top of the mustard packets in the cafeteria that just won't open as easily as the ketchup packets. My hardy pioneer ancestors would be proud.