Author: Easin' Along

When I could no longer avoid the realization that retirement was more than just an event down the road, I, like a lot of others, began asking myself “then what”.  I knew that I would try to stay disciplined about writing posts for Easin’ Along, but other than that, I had no idea what retirement activity was going to keep me busy.

I used to play golf, but I’m pretty lousy at it.  I love to snow ski, but for someone who lives in Tennessee, that would occupy two weeks out of the year at best.  I love to fish, but sold the boat when we downsized, and fishing from a river bank doesn’t really do it for me.  I have signed up for a couple of courses at the University of Tennessee, and plan to do that several times a year, but those classes are somewhat sporadic.

Hobbies? Well, I like to read.  I follow sports, primarily University of Tennessee sports, and I love football regardless of who plays. However, once the season is over, it’s over for me too. Nevertheless, reading and sports are not really hobbies.

So what else?  I have an SUV (nicknamed Freddie) that I have a lot of fun with.  Freddie is a Toyota FJ Cruiser that I baby like it is my child. I bought it a few years back and continue to accessorize.  Freddie lives in my garage, and never gets rained on.  I’m sure the neighbors laugh at me because I’m always washing, waxing, and polishing it, then sending it back into the garage. I belong to two Facebook groups of FJ Cruiser owners from all over the world and am fascinated with their adventures, like cruising the sand in Saudi Arabia or climbing a mountain peak in Utah.  Freddie is more of a “mall crawler”, but we have a lot of fun nonetheless. You may remember that last week we made a trip to explore the area around Norris Dam in Andersonville, Tennessee.

I do have one activity that, at present, is more of a habit than a hobby.  I am a collector. I’ll find a trinket or something interesting, and before you know it, I have ten more of the “interesting somethings”.  A few years back, I got into paperweights.  I still have several, but soon learned that those things take up a lot of space and learned to resist them.  Next, I got into sew-on patches and had a bunch of them sewn on to my clothing, but the clothing wears out eventually, and the patches with them. I have a small collection of miniature cars.  A few are “mini” Freddies, and I have a couple of miniature 1955 Chevys, my first car. I may stay with this collection, but again, space is an issue.  The item that I have the most of is a collection of souvenir sewing thimbles.  Yes…that’s right, thimbles.

The thimble thing began when I was on the staff of the 1982 World’s Fair in Knoxville and was helping to liquidate Fair merchandise after the event came to a close.  One merchant set out a tub of souvenir thimbles and offered one to me for helping him carry them out to the sale.  I took his offering and put it on a shelf at my home without much thought. Later in the year Helen and I took a trip to Disney World and when it came time to leave, we decided that we needed souvenirs. Helen bought a refrigerator magnet and I picked out a Mickey Mouse thimble. Now I had a collection. In the years since, I can’t travel to a new destination without scouring the tacky souvenir stands to find a new thimble for my collection. That collection now includes 176 thimbles. I just purchased another display case and will begin filling it up as we Ease Along on our upcoming trip.

 A few months ago, while exploring options for future activities, I was reminded by my brother that I had a collection of pocketknives that was left to me by our father when he died, and that adding to the collection might be an activity worth considering. If it seems odd that I had to be reminded about the knives it is due to the fact that I keep them in a safe box and only retrieve them about once a year to oil them and keep them in mint condition.  I never really had an interest in adding to the collection, probably because I’m not that good of a trader, and knife collecting is a developed skill requiring considerable knowledge, and the ability to drive a good bargain. Nevertheless, I have always treasured the collection, and honored to have them knowing how proud my father was of them. I realized however, that if I was going to take up the activity of knife collecting or do something with the knives I had, that I needed to get a working knowledge of what I had and a little bit of guidance on how to go about adding to the collection.  It just so happened that there was a gun and knife show going on in our town that weekend. I went.

I had never been to a gun and knife show before, and what an experience it was.  This show was being held in a large exposition center and it was packed with enthusiasts.  That was readily apparent when I pulled Freddie into a huge parking lot and had to park at the very rear on the grass as there were no parking spaces available. I went to the ticket booth and paid my eight dollars for admission, then went through the battery of police officers who were inspecting the guns being brought in for trade or sale by the attendees.  I was pretty impressed by the security.  Once inside I was astounded by the hundreds of tables of guns, the hundreds of gun dealers, and the many hundreds of gun collectors. I won’t render an opinion on whether gun dealing is good or bad, right or wrong, all I can say is that the people in that exhibit hall seemed to be nothing more than a group of peaceful, law abiding Americans pursuing an interest that they find very pleasurable.

Unfortunately there were very few knife dealers at this show. I did talk to one dealer there who told me that the foremost authority on the knives in my collection was at a show in a town nearby.  Knowing that I didn’t have time to drive to that event, I got his name from this dealer, and after spending a little more time looking at the displays, I left.

On Monday morning after the show I Googled the name of the knife expert to learn that he was indeed considered an expert on Case brand pocketknives which is the principle brand in my father’s collection. Furthermore, I learned that this gentleman lived in Charleston, South Carolina and I was going to visit Charleston that next weekend.  I called him immediately to see if he would agree to meet with me. He said he would be delighted.

The gentleman’s name is Tony Foster and he couldn’t have been nicer on the phone.  Yes, he said, he would be home the next Saturday morning and if I would call him the day before we could set a time. I thanked him profusely and agreed to do just that.

On Friday I called him as I was driving to Charleston and got his address, grateful that he had not forgotten about our previous conversation. We were to meet at around 9:30 the next morning.  It’s not often that I get to meet someone who is considered an expert on anything, so to say that I was eagerly looking forward to meeting an expert on something as unique as Case pocketknives is a huge understatement. I arose early Saturday morning, kissed the grandchildren, picked up my knives, and whistled out the door.

 I again called Tony on my way and he met me in the driveway of his beautiful home.  I liked him immediately.  He had a huge smile and greeted me with his warm and welcoming southern accent. He was wearing an open fleece jacket over a V-neck tee shirt and lounging pajama pants.  On his feet he was wearing what looked like bedroom slippers. I guessed him to be in his early 80’s. Tony invited me into his very large man cave and I followed him there like a youthful puppy dog.

His man cave was dedicated to his passion which is the collection and preservation of Case knives and the history of the brand. The room was neat, well lit, and well organized. There were display cases on the walls and more cases lying on tables along them.  He had file cases containing information about all things Case, as well as the tools necessary to pursue his passion such as magnifying glasses etc. He invited me to sit down and tell him about what I had brought for him to examine, which I did.

I opened the cases containing my knives and gave him a brief history of the collection that my father had accumulated beginning in the 1960’s. He then began to give me a brief history of the brand and the points of interest of each knife that determine the value and/or make them collectible. I sat in rapt attention. It was obvious that he was passionate about this pursuit and had spent many years acquiring the knowledge of the minute points that make this brand so desirable. I won’t take the time to detail those points here, mainly because it is more than one can absorb in just one visit, but suffice it to say that his knowledge was vast and impressive.

Tony went through my collection of 41 Case knives and gave me an approximate estimate of their worth. He said he couldn’t pinpoint an exact value without spending more time with them, but he felt pretty confident of his estimate. Let’s just say that I was happy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tony gave me a few more minutes to look around his man cave and take some pictures of his display cases.  After some coaxing, he allowed me to take his picture although I’m sure that he preferred that I didn’t.  I’m grateful that he did…again, one is not often in the presence of experts. 

He shared with me a few stories about how he got into collecting, but it was primarily due to a general interest in knives from an early age.  He had spent a career as an engineer in the paper industry in the Charleston area, but was now retired and used his time to travel to knife shows throughout the south.

 

I could have stayed there and talked with him for much longer, but hoping I would have a chance to return some day, I figured I had better not abuse his generous gift of time on a Saturday morning and excuse myself.  He walked me out, and while I had only known him for a few hours, I really felt like I was saying goodbye to an old friend. 

Once I was back home, I was going through the collection and using some of the information Tony gave me to learn a little more about the knives in my possession, I called to ask him a couple of questions.  He was a helpful as anyone could ask for. Some people just have a way about them.

Still uncertain if knife collecting will be an activity that drives me, I am certain about one thing.  Pursuing the company of people who are passionate about anything worthwhile is a retirement activity that I hope becomes a large part of the journey I call Easin’ Along.

From the time we retired in August and began sharing our activities on Easin’ Along, I have tried to remain disciplined about continuing the habit on a weekly schedule.  I have been able to maintain that schedule every week since our debut and have enjoyed doing so very much.  I did take a break for Thanksgiving week and to cheer for our Tennessee Vols on New Year’s Day, but aside from those two days, this is one retirement activity that I intend to continue.

Nevertheless, there was not much happening on the first week of the New Year.  Helen and I have another adventure planned for later in the month that we are looking forward to sharing with everyone, but that is for later, and I needed inspiration NOW.

On Monday of this week, as has become my routine now that I don’t have to rush out to work, I rose at the usual time, followed Wilbur (our fat cat) out to his food bowl, filled it up, put a K-cup in the coffee brewer, then walked outside to pick up the newspaper where Bobby, the newspaper man had left it on the driveway.  The temperature was in the low 20’s and I was grateful that, on this morning at least, I was going back inside to hot coffee and a newspaper in the man cave instead of hurrying out to a cold job site. I threw a little creamer in the coffee (never black, and never sugar), walked into the man cave, flipped on the TV, sat down and spread out the paper. I know this pace is killing you, but hang in there…remember we’re Easin’ Along here.

One story in the newspaper caught my eye.  On page one of the business section was a picture of Norris Dam.  We’ve had a lot of heavy rain in recent weeks and the newspaper was running a story about the need for the Tennessee Valley Authority (TVA) to spill the excess water through many of the dams in the Tennessee River system, including Norris Dam which is about a 30 minute drive to the north.

As I sat there sipping coffee while listening to Wilbur grumble about a food shortage, the sun peeked over the horizon to reveal a stunningly clear, albeit cold, morning. That was all of the inspiration I needed. I got up from my chair, showered, grabbed the camera, a Slim Fast, and coffee in a go cup and pointed Freddie (my car) in the direction of Norris Dam. It was a beautiful day for a drive and I was pumped.

The route took me north along I-75 to the Andersonville (TN) exit, then east.  It had been several years since I had been to Norris Dam.  When I was in my 30’s, I used to go there often to fish for trout in the Clinch River, and was very familiar with the roads at the time, but there had been a lot of road work since those days, and many of my landmarks had been removed.  Norris Dam was not an available destination in my GPS. I missed one turn, but after locating the route on my IPhone, I was able to get Freddie turned around and on the way once again.

I had it confirmed that I was on the right road when I spotted a small church on my right and to my front.  I remember passing by the church in my fishing days and always thought it was a grand old structure with its tall steeple and exposed bell. It has the classic look of old churches from bygone days.  I pulled Freddie over to take a few pictures.

Back on the road, it wasn’t long before the Clinch River came into view on my left. The river was roaring and barely within its banks. The speed of the water was incredible and it was hard not to look away as I steered Freddie into a parking area along the bank.

TVA had constructed a weir dam at this point in the Clinch some thirty years ago to help improve the oxygen levels in the water and thereby improve the conditions for fish and other aquatic life below the dam.  I may not be exact about this, but if my memory serves me well, I think the oxygen levels were being depleted in the deep water at the bottom of Norris Lake and needed some turbulence to bring oxygen back into the water. Supposedly the weir dam helped with this.  I hope my facts are somewhat close to accurate, but remember, I’m recalling thirty year old facts with a sixty plus year old mind.  That can be a challenge for anyone.

I took a few pictures of the water rolling over the weir and a video that is posted on Easin’ Along YouTube page. Pretty amazing…

Freddie and I moved on up river to the dam which is about a mile away. I thought I would see water coming over the top of the dam but that was not the case.  I had seen this once before at Norris and it is pretty dramatic – and rare.  On this day however, water was being sent through the sluice gates at the bottom of the dam at a rapid rate.  According to TVA, 103,000 gallons per second were being sent through the gates, and that was to continue for three more days. As the water came rushing from under the dam, a large mist was created and rainbows were everywhere in the mist.  The cloudless blue sky in the background made the rainbows stand out even more. This sight made the trip worthwhile and memorable. (Picture at top of this page).

For most of the time I was at the dam I was alone.  I suppose the thirty degree weather had kept most folks inside, although with no wind to blow the cold, the day seemed pretty glorious to me. One car pulled up after a few minutes however and out came a young guy with a tiny black and tan Chihuahua.  Apparently he had come to try his hand at fishing, but when he saw the rushing water, he decided he’d better postpone that notion for another day.

I wrapped up the picture session below the dam and decided to go above for a better look.

Norris Dam was built in the 1930’s by TVA as a way to control flooding and to provide low-cost power for the people of this depressed region of the country where very few had electricity at the time. Norris Dam was the first dam completed on the Tennessee River system and was dedicated in 1936.  I stopped on the road that travels over the dam for pictures and admired the elevator tower in the center of the dam. The lettering on the side of the tower is in the art deco style that was popular during the Depression.  The green mildew on the side of the tower gave it a look of aged distinction.

The view from either side of the dam was spectacular on this bluebird morning. To the north is Norris Lake.  Although the banks of the lake were exposed, it was evident that the lake was well above normal winter pool. To the south is the Clinch River.  I eased up to the guardrail for pictures of the water below.  I’m not one who is ever comfortable with heights, but I had to peer over for a shot of the river, and my hands were a little shaky as I snapped the shot.  I didn’t drop the camera, but I did think about the possibility. Since I was again alone on the road, I lingered a bit to take in the view.

It was now time to go a little higher and take in yet another view from the overlook above the dam.

When I was a small child, our family used to travel monthly to the town of LaFollette, Tennessee where my father grew up and my grandmother was living.  This was before the days of the Interstate Highway and we would travel from Knoxville to LaFollette along Highway 441. This winding road is the highway that crosses the Dam and passes by the overlook.  My brother and I would always plead with my dad to stop and let us run around at the overlook and the adjacent woods. Occasionally, he would relent and pull our 1955 Plymouth in to give us (and him) a break. I was looking forward to reliving some cherished memories.

On this day the road into the overlook was blocked by a closed gate…bummer! Not to be denied, I parked Freddie in front of the gate and walked the several hundred yards back to the parking area for the overlook.  The road in was on the north side of the woods we played in during my childhood.  As mentioned earlier, there was no wind and also no leaves on the trees.  The silence of the woods was deafening. That silence was soon punctured however by the sound of two, large, Pileated woodpeckers that flew in from somewhere and began hammering away at an elm tree at the edge of the woods. I fumbled for my camera—this was too good to miss.

It took a few seconds to focus on these beautiful creatures and a few more for them to give me their best side, but finally one of the pair decided to cooperate and I was able to snap away. These two could have cared less that I was in their presence, but when a pesky squirrel decided to invade their space, a fight broke out and turned the event into a laugh riot.

I watched as the squirrel came across a limb and then down the trunk of the tree to where the woodpeckers were working.  One of the redheads flew higher, but the other seemed only annoyed and moved to the back side of the tree away from my view…and the squirrel’s. As the chunky rodent came further down the tree head first, he paused at a spot where the woodpecker sat waiting precisely at the same spot, but on the other side of the tree. Standing dead still and afraid to lift my camera and spoil what was about to happen, a red plume appeared to one side of the trunk with its beak aimed squarely at the left toe of the unwanted invader. Rat-a-tat-tat, as quick as a cannon shot, the woodpecker drove his pointed beak into the toe of that squirrel and quickly flew out of harm’s way. Just as quickly, the squirrel circled the tree as he climbed upward in search of the now departed assailant. It was a scene to behold.  I’m just sorry that I have no pictures.

I reached the overlook parking lot where a TVA employee greeted me.  He was sweeping the asphalt lot and asked me if I had walked in.  Answering in the affirmative, he apologized but explained that he had to lock the gate in order to clean up after some vandals had spun mud all over the lot, then used chains to pull down some guard rails and other barriers.  He was very angry and talked almost non-stop about the senseless damage. I could only agree with him. It was senseless.

I took a few more pictures, then waved goodbye to the attendant, and walked back to Freddie to begin the trip home, stopping first at an old Grist Mill and Threshing Barn located near the dam.

The Grist Mill was adjacent to Clear Creek about a mile from the dam. It had first been constructed in 1798 in Union County, Tennessee and operated until 1935 when TVA bought the property of its owner before the land was to be flooded.  TVA preserved the mill and reassembled it at its present site after it was acquired. According to information beside the mill, the inner gears were hand made from hickory and the main shaft was made from yellow poplar. The mill stones were original and had been imported from France. It is a handsome structure indeed.

At the same location is a barn and threshing machine built in the 1830’s. This building and the machine were hand made from wood and had stood in the Cosby community before the property was flooded by what is now Cherokee Lake. It had also been preserved by TVA and assembled on this site in 1978. I positioned Freddie in front of the barn and photographed it.

The drive back to Knoxville was a quick one, and I smiled the entire way.  What had started out as a “do nothing” day had turned into a great one. I was grateful for the trip and for the time that has been afforded me by my retirement. I promised to do more of these.  That will not be hard as there are many sights like this in Tennessee, a state of staggering beauty. I hope you will be there to Ease Along with me.

As I walked in the door to home, Wilbur sat, staring.  I was late for lunch…