Sharpening Rituals - Please share yours

[wadebevan]

Just for kicks, I thought I would share my monthly sharpening ritual, and hope to hear of others.

It is the last Tuesday of the month, and that means I get all my commonly used kitchen & pocket knives lined up for their new edges.


My deceased father taught me to sharpen on a stone when I was probably about 6 years old, and then after I became somewhat proficient at the task, I don't think he sharpened another blade, but instead outsourced it to me!

My sharpening ritual still reminds me of him and all of the good times we had.  Which is probably why it became a ritual in the first place; a purposeful task to honor this, and all things, that my father taught me.

For myself, on the last Tuesday (or Wed - if something came up), I sit down with a cold beer(s) and my 'course' and 'medium' DMT 'stones', along with a 20" long by 4" wide cowhide strop block -- and nowadays, with the strop block that Mark R. made for some of us out here.

A few drops of dish soap mixed in a few drops of water applied to the diamond stones seems to help keep them nice and clean.

I usually start with the worst looking edge first to get in the right state of mind and get that 'flow' that is necessary for a good edge.

I take my time with each knife, there are about 7 of them, sometimes a couple more or a couple less.  
Takes me a solid 2 hours, and I enjoy every minute of it!

Anyhow, most of the people around me think I am a bit looney about all of it, but, I figured if there is one group of people that can understand the more 'emotional' side of a good sharp blade, it is you folks!

Heres to no hair on your left hand/wrist/arm,
Cheers!
Wade

[Ken S]

Wade,

At one especially desperate financial time, Samuel Clemens (Mark Twain) was offered a very lucrative speaking opportunity. The speaking opportunity happened to be on the evening of the week that Clemens devoted to maintaining his pipes, so, naturally, Clemens declined. Any hint of your sharpening ritual being anything except of the highest logic and importance might be seen as implying negative thoughts about our finest author. That would be in the poorest of taste and unworthy of a member of this exchange.

We need rituals to keep reminded of the persons we value. Thanks for sharing yours. In my case, among my Henckel kitchen knives there is a very old Flint stainless steel "sandwich knife". It holds the place of honor ex oficio because it was my Dad's knife.

Ken

[Mike Brubacher]

This is a great thread topic Wade and I very much appreciate your shared sentiments here. It's obvious to me that your Dad isn't really gone because he's still in your thoughts and now, he's in mine as well. So thank you very much for the introduction.

My home sharpening ritual isn't very ritualistic at all. Joan decides when her knives aren't sharp enough and conveys that information to me. I then package them all up, take them to the office with me and sharpen. Joan's pretty good at keeping edges straight so this occurs, maybe, a couple of times a year.

When I think of ritual though my mind automatically goes back to the days when I still lived in Kansas. Every summer my friends and I (6-8 of us) would pack up and go on a five or six day trout fishing trip in Colorado. Trout fishing in Colorado centers around the Gunnison area. The Taylor, the Gunnison, East River and lots of smaller tributaries like Texas Creek, Spring Creek and Ohio. We always stayed at a very old hunting and fishing camp called Spring Creek Resort twenty or so miles north of Gunnison. The camp buildings were built in the forties out of log with native stone foundations. Our trip planning went the same way every year. We'd leave after work and drive through the night to arrive in Gunnison in the morning. We'd buy all the groceries for the week at the local Safeway and pick up our fishing licenses. Then we'd head up into the Mountains and fix lunch at the cabins.

The cabins sat right on Spring Creek so after lunch we'd tote a cooler down to a flat, grassy area right next to the stream and set up at an old picnic table there. Then the knives came out. There's going to be plenty of fish to be cleaned, right? Mostly nice big folders. One of the group, Gene, was a gunsmith and knife maker. He'd supply the stones and we'd set to work. More often than not for hours. My most clear memory of all this is me grinding and grinding and then handing the knife to Gene for inspection. He'd shake his head and hand it back to me and I'd continue my efforts. This all became ritual for us each and every year and only interspersed, some years, with a little tomahawk throwing. Bubby was always on these trips so maybe he can chip in here as well. 

Don't try to find Spring Creek Resort. Just like a lot of other things, its been gone for some time now. The memories of those sharpening sessions are still here though.