Probably, my grandfather’s blades as they tell pretty incredible stories. In order of when he was received them:

• USMC Kabar knife. He was issued the knife when he joined in WW2. He was lucky to avoid combat. Really, really lucky. He was on a troop transport en route to Kyushu when the surrender was signed on the USS Missouri and Operation Downfall was cancelled.

He went on to join the rubber industry, working for a major manufacturer in Indonesia. He kept his Kabar with him and used it a lot but never in violence. The combat knife became a tool of agriculture. The original leather rotted away in the tropical heat and humidity, was replaced with an improvised aluminum one. He was an avid gardener in his retirement and continued to use it somewhat like a hori-hori. The aluminum handle is falling off at this point, so, I’m going to eventually replace it with one made from olive wood to complete the “swords to plowshares” symbolism physically.

• Indonesian Parang. This blade is similar to a machete in design, about 20-24in (~51-61cm). My grandfather was given this blade at the rubber plantation by a deeply despondent man. The man had been pressured into taking part in an honor killing but didn’t have a violent bone in his body. Not knowing what to do and not wanting to murder another human being, he came to my grandfather who was well-respected in the community (he was ceremonially adopted by the local tribe). They came up with a solution. If he didn’t have his parang, he couldn’t perform the killing. So, he left it in my grandfather’s hands, making him promise to never return it.

While that man is probably long gone, I keep that promise myself and strive to ensure that the blade is never used for violence. Perhaps I’ll see if I can figure out a good mount for it to permanently prevent its removal from the scabbard. Its continued existence, to me, provides tangible evidence that there’s always another way.