My First Jackknife

Sugar Loaf invites me down a portal. I am free to explore the natural world, this secret garden. I carry a four-inch jackknife with a wooden inlay and brass trim, not because I am cautious, but because the knife used to belong to my father. I accept his gift. I know there will be a story and a set of circumstances in accepting it. He is giving me responsibility. I am the boy he will never have. Instead, I am the first born of two girls—the only children he’d have from his two marriages.

I listen to the rules of owning a jackknife: beware of the pointed tip; where to position my fingers when I safely snap the blade shut, and how to keep it protected from rain. My father makes a full circle with his instructions, and repeating his earlier precautions of “jackknife ownership.” The responsibility in owning a jackknife is like that of any other...your own weapon can sharply turn against you. I carry my doll and the jackknife up the mountain, entering the world armed. I live with exceptions, and born into an era where kids could still run and explore without the worries of being abducted or raped.

You’re never alone on a mountain. I am alive from the moment I enter the trail and climb towards a wooded canopy of trees, my belly sharply puffing in and out. I'm alert, like a blue jay, and my senses are quick from excitement; survival tastes of dust I lick from my lips. Most times, the goal is to reach the top of the mountain and locate the sandstone caves. Once I reach the top, I breathe in the panoramic views of Winona. My father has warned me of snakes, rattlesnakes to be exact, and tells me if one crosses my path to be very still. Neither the rattler, nor myself, may see the other coming, so I am to stay out of the caves. But, caves are inviting. I stand at the entrance to a cave as if it were a house with no permission to enter. I toss a rock inside to see if any animals dart out. If I had to, would I kill a snake with my jackknife and bring its limp body dangling over a stick down the mountain? I watch my steps on the path, and speak aloud, hoping to scare off the summer snakes.