when i was a kid, there was an old married couple who lived across the lobby from my family. they were a sweet old couple, and having no kids of their own, they adopted all the kids in the building, and some of the adults, like my dad. i was about 9 when the old man died. his wife, Anita, insisted my dad take all his toolboxes, saying he needed and deserved them more than others. after about two days, my dad gave in. turns out the old man was a WWII navy vet who served in the pacific campaign. those tool boxes were a literal treasure trove of pocket knives, fixed blades,tools, compasses, maps, medals, safety glasses, gloves, tool belts, and anything else you can imagine an old sailor would have picked up along his travels. there was even an old shin gunto dagger he took from a dead japanese soldier that my dad still has. among the knives in the collection, my dad gave me two: a fixed hunter, which he said i could have when i was 12, and a two blade, eisenhower style pocketknife, with stag scales. i carried that from age 9 until 16, when a cop (NYPD) took it from me during a traffic stop. i'm 35, and i'm still pissed off about that. i still have the hunter, though; it never gets used. it's funny, he was one of 4 people in my building growing up who were somehow involved in WWII. 3 vets, and one woman, who survived Auschwitz. lots of history in my old building, i guess.