A few weeks ago, as Mom recounted the dispersal of Dad’s collection of knives to sons and grandsons, I spied an unclaimed, curious-bladed knife. “What’s the story behind this one? I inquired.
“Oh, that was Sam’s,” Mom replied. “He had been carrying it around in the side pocket of the truck door for months. I told him that he had better get rid of that frog sticker since it could be considered a weapon, if he were stopped by the police.”
“Yeah, but what about that peculiar blade? I asked.
“That was Sam’s tomato knife. He wore it out, didn’t he? I suppose I should throw it away.”
I called to mind how Dad enjoyed slicing a pan of tomatoes for world-famous Busy Bee Samburgers. Many a good tomato had been smashed and trashed due to the inefficiency of the mechanical tomato slicer, so Dad started slicing each and every tomato by hand. He enthusiastically described a full pan of precisely sliced tomatoes as a “work of art.”
I picked up an envelope to test the knife’s paper-slicing power. Perfect!
Dad’s tomato knife lives on as a mail opener, and as a reminder that a perfectly sliced pan of tomatoes is, indeed, a work of art.