I'm thinking of adding a new recurring feature, where knives that show up in (non-cooking) TV shows or in movies are identified. Does that sound interesting to you all?
Of course, someone will have to take the arduous task of actually watching all those movies before the information could be posted. I wonder if I can get Carl to pay for my Blockbuster rentals. It's for work!
Whether that ends up happening, or not, I'll still try to answer one of the questions that someone was googling that pulled up this site. What is the knife in Dexter? I certainly hope the answer is in the first season, because that's the only one my friend has, and I'm just borrowing it.
Anybody in the audience have a guess?
(Note: Yes, girls watch movies with knives and violence in them. If you have any suggestions, I'll watch them as long as they aren't horror movies.)
Friday, August 22, 2008
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
"Staying Sharp"
The above is the title of an article about Heimerdinger Cutlery that was published in the Voice Tribune, Wednesday, July 30th. Here's a link to the article so you can read it for yourself!
Matthew Ralph came to the store with his photographer and they interviewed Carl, Glenna, and their daughter (my cousin) Nicole.
Here's a couple of excerpts:
Yeah, keep up that internet business, so I can keep blogging for your delight and entertainment! Or is that laying it on too thick?
Even for those of us who aren't in line to own the business someday, the history is still strong. I started working in the store my junior year of high school, when I needed to earn some money for a school trip. I went in on Saturdays; a few years later I worked full time in the summer.
The store has always been a part of who I am. My dad brought me in when I was too young to see over the counters, when the most marvelous thing in the store was the tray full of Swiss Army knives, each in their own little section. The rows of gleaming knives in the display cases are paired with the whir of machinery from back in the shop where my grandfather and uncle were sharpening things. The sounds the displaycase doors make when someone slides them open and the challenge of climbing on to the tall stools behind the counter are an integral part of my memories of spending the weekend with my grandparents.
(It should be capitalized, "The Store." That's how we all think of it, and that's how everyone in the family uses it. In our address books, in conversation, even in my cell phone, that building is what we mean when we say "The Store.")
Even though I don't work in The Store regularly, and haven't for two or three years, I am still involved. The most obvious way is through this blog. But I can look at the website and see photos that I either took or assisted with. If you see a disembodied woman's hand on the website, it's most likely mine. During the holiday season or summer, if extra help is needed and I'm in town, I'll come in. I enjoy going to visit, talking with the people who work there, getting to play with new knives and things.
Some things you can't get away from, they're in your blood. Luckily, I love being a part of The Store.
Matthew Ralph came to the store with his photographer and they interviewed Carl, Glenna, and their daughter (my cousin) Nicole.
Here's a couple of excerpts:
Over the course of 147 years, Heimerdinger Cutlery Co. has sold thousands of knives and scissors – and even a few refrigerators along the way.
Since its establishment in 1861 by the son of a German tailor, the one constant in the Heimerdinger name has been innovation.
Unlike some of his ancestors, Carl E. Heimerdinger doesn’t hold patents on elaborate sharpening or cutting devices or run an elaborate manufacturing facility, but his decision to invest in e-commerce six years ago was just as innovative in terms of keeping the St. Matthews business afloat...
Today, purchases through the company’s elaborate Web catalog – heimerdingercutlery.com – account for about 50 percent of sales.
That’s good news for Nicole Heimerdinger, Carl’s gregarious 14-year-old daughter who knows the store like the back of her hand and likes the sound of “sixth generation business owner.”
Yeah, keep up that internet business, so I can keep blogging for your delight and entertainment! Or is that laying it on too thick?
Though the company has moved several times since it opened in a downtown storefront in the 19th century – moving to its current location at 4207 Shelbyville Road 25 years ago – reminders of the Heimerdinger legacy are always looming overhead in photographs of the past owners and a large pair of golden shears Carl’s father carved in the early 1920s. The shears used to hang outside the Market Street shop.
A refrigerator label from the early 1900s hangs on the wall as a reminder of some of the interesting items the company sold through the years...
“It’s very unique and very exciting being part of a business that’s been in the family so long,” Carl said. “There’s all of this history behind you.”
Even for those of us who aren't in line to own the business someday, the history is still strong. I started working in the store my junior year of high school, when I needed to earn some money for a school trip. I went in on Saturdays; a few years later I worked full time in the summer.
The store has always been a part of who I am. My dad brought me in when I was too young to see over the counters, when the most marvelous thing in the store was the tray full of Swiss Army knives, each in their own little section. The rows of gleaming knives in the display cases are paired with the whir of machinery from back in the shop where my grandfather and uncle were sharpening things. The sounds the displaycase doors make when someone slides them open and the challenge of climbing on to the tall stools behind the counter are an integral part of my memories of spending the weekend with my grandparents.
(It should be capitalized, "The Store." That's how we all think of it, and that's how everyone in the family uses it. In our address books, in conversation, even in my cell phone, that building is what we mean when we say "The Store.")
Even though I don't work in The Store regularly, and haven't for two or three years, I am still involved. The most obvious way is through this blog. But I can look at the website and see photos that I either took or assisted with. If you see a disembodied woman's hand on the website, it's most likely mine. During the holiday season or summer, if extra help is needed and I'm in town, I'll come in. I enjoy going to visit, talking with the people who work there, getting to play with new knives and things.
Some things you can't get away from, they're in your blood. Luckily, I love being a part of The Store.
I think that I shall never see...
Poetry time!
I don't know if you are familiar with Knife World magazine, or not. Each month, Knife World offers a wide variety of information about knives, knife books, and more. You'll learn about knifemakers, knife companies, knife values, knife history, and read stories of interest to all knife enthusiasts.
The summer I worked full-time at the store, I kept sneaking peeks at Knife World, because it's just that interesting.
It also has lighthearted features, personal essays and the occasional poem.
Here's an excerpt from Carl's favorite poem, that he asked me to post.
"I never met a knife that didn't like me"
by Don Evans
The most precious give, I've received in my life,
was a brand spanking-new, pocketknife.
With celluloid handles, and blades that would fold,
that my Dad gave to me, when I was seven years old.
It created a passion, from which I'll never be free,
and never have I met a knife, that didn't like me.
There's nothing in this world, you can give a boy,
that he can show his friends, with pride and joy.
As most of my friends, had pocketknives,
now I had one too, like the other guys.
And as I slipped it into my pocket, very lovingly,
I knew I'd never meet a knife, that didn't like me.
I still have that knife, along with hundreds more,
that hid in the attic, and behind every door.
Some knives I guy, have a certain appeal,
or I buy a whole box-full, 'cause I get a good deal.
And sometimes I just buy them, out of curiousity,
just to see if I've met a knife, that doesn't like me.
...
There are pictures of knives, that hang on the walls,
in the living room, kitchen, and down the halls.
Therea re pictures on the cieling, over my bed,
some folks like mirrors, I like knife pictures instead.
And though they are surrounding me, constantly,
I've still never met a knife, that didn't like me.
I've got dozens of knife books, I use in research,
I always take one to read, when I go to church.
But the preacher spotted it, and took one look,
now he's preachin' sermons, from outta that book.
And he's collecting, knives from A to Z,
Now he'll never meet a knife, that doesn't like he.
Then I met this gal, her name was Sue,
the perfect companion, she liked knives too.
For an engagement gift, she gave me a knife,
so there wasn't much choice, I made her my wife.
And as we walked down the aisle, we knew happily,
that we'd never met a knife, that didn't like we.
We'll jump in the camper, and drive hundreds of miles,
just so we can walk, up and down those aisles.
We walk for miles, legs getting unstable,
'cause that rare knife may be lying, on the very next table.
And when I find it, the right one it'll be,
'cause I never met a knife, that didn't like me.
...
(Originally published in Knife World magazine, March 1999, p. 33. Excerpted for copyright reasons, and the fact that it's really really long. You would be scrolling forever)
I don't know if you are familiar with Knife World magazine, or not. Each month, Knife World offers a wide variety of information about knives, knife books, and more. You'll learn about knifemakers, knife companies, knife values, knife history, and read stories of interest to all knife enthusiasts.
The summer I worked full-time at the store, I kept sneaking peeks at Knife World, because it's just that interesting.
It also has lighthearted features, personal essays and the occasional poem.
Here's an excerpt from Carl's favorite poem, that he asked me to post.
"I never met a knife that didn't like me"
by Don Evans
The most precious give, I've received in my life,
was a brand spanking-new, pocketknife.
With celluloid handles, and blades that would fold,
that my Dad gave to me, when I was seven years old.
It created a passion, from which I'll never be free,
and never have I met a knife, that didn't like me.
There's nothing in this world, you can give a boy,
that he can show his friends, with pride and joy.
As most of my friends, had pocketknives,
now I had one too, like the other guys.
And as I slipped it into my pocket, very lovingly,
I knew I'd never meet a knife, that didn't like me.
I still have that knife, along with hundreds more,
that hid in the attic, and behind every door.
Some knives I guy, have a certain appeal,
or I buy a whole box-full, 'cause I get a good deal.
And sometimes I just buy them, out of curiousity,
just to see if I've met a knife, that doesn't like me.
...
There are pictures of knives, that hang on the walls,
in the living room, kitchen, and down the halls.
Therea re pictures on the cieling, over my bed,
some folks like mirrors, I like knife pictures instead.
And though they are surrounding me, constantly,
I've still never met a knife, that didn't like me.
I've got dozens of knife books, I use in research,
I always take one to read, when I go to church.
But the preacher spotted it, and took one look,
now he's preachin' sermons, from outta that book.
And he's collecting, knives from A to Z,
Now he'll never meet a knife, that doesn't like he.
Then I met this gal, her name was Sue,
the perfect companion, she liked knives too.
For an engagement gift, she gave me a knife,
so there wasn't much choice, I made her my wife.
And as we walked down the aisle, we knew happily,
that we'd never met a knife, that didn't like we.
We'll jump in the camper, and drive hundreds of miles,
just so we can walk, up and down those aisles.
We walk for miles, legs getting unstable,
'cause that rare knife may be lying, on the very next table.
And when I find it, the right one it'll be,
'cause I never met a knife, that didn't like me.
...
(Originally published in Knife World magazine, March 1999, p. 33. Excerpted for copyright reasons, and the fact that it's really really long. You would be scrolling forever)
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