Something about a pocket knife longs for a piece of wood. And something about the incidental, capricious or eccentric carvings of these blades catch my eye. Their work is evident in many different places, but often found on park benches, the walls of backcountry cabins or lean-tos, tavern bars, and picnic tables. Mostly they are names and dates, initials, geometric designs, or hearts drawn by lovers. They tell stories, leave a residue of personality that readers like me can only guess at.
While not entirely disappearing, carving on wood surfaces is an art form or species of graffiti that has become less common. At one time, small folding blades were standard equipment for a guy leaving the house, as essential as a wallet or watch. But contemporary conveniences often obviate the need for a knife and security concerns in many venues make carrying one an annoyance. Fewer knives mean less serendipitous carving.
