Rapala

 I received an addition to my knife collection this Christmas. Becky and Jack, my sister and brother-in-law, gave me a Rapala fillet knife. I like knives. They're simple and handy. When I was a blue collar worker I always carried a hefty knife. When I went white collar I had to leave the knife at home. But then I read a story about a man who rescued a couple from their burning car by cutting their seatbelts. The hero said he grew up on a farm and always carried a knife.

  I realized that without a knife, I would have had to stand by helplessly while the people in the car burned to death, so I made sure there was always a sharp knife in the glovebox. I haven't had to rescue anyone since then (c.1997), but the knife comes in handy for cutting up apples when on the road.    

  The knife Jack chose for me caused some bemusement among the crowd gathered around the Christmas tree as I looked over my new Rapala 4" Fish 'n Fillet knife. I have caught a handful of fish in my time but no one would call me an avid fisherman. Jack said, "He can use it in the kitchen. Put it in the knife drawer. As I say, I like knives and now that I'm retired I could wear it on my belt for any emergencies that pop up.

  I encountered some problems with my  new knife which I left under our Christmas tree for a couple of weeks. The knife and sheath came in a thick plastic case which requires heavy shears to get through, with the risk of cutting into the product within. Second, there's no room in our knife drawer for more knives. This gave Teresa a chance to bring several knives we never use to the Food Shelf's "free stuff" table in Roseau. And third, in small print the packaging says, "Use only for filleting fish and for no other purpose." It says the same in Spanish. The French version does not say use only for filleting. Rapala has probably learned that if you tell a French person to do something, they'll do the opposite.

  The knife comes with a little sharpener. It's one of those V shaped jobs that you draw the knife through. I'm not trying to be difficult but the instructions say, "Insert the knife at a 90° angle to the sharpener," which makes no sense at all. Same instructions in Spanish and French. What language were these instructions translated from? Now another more existential question arose. Where was this knife made? I'm so used to seeing everything made in China that I was heartened to see the blade and sheath both said Finland. But the packaging said made in Estonia.

  I searched Rapala Fillet Knife online and found a 20 minute YouTube video about the factory where the knives are made. I hoped to get some tips on sharpening. The video was from Made for the Outdoors hosted by a good old Minnesotan who goes behind the scenes to show how outdoor equipment is made.  The knife factory is in Rovaniemi, Finland just south of the Arctic Circle. The business was started by a J. Marttiini in 1928. He made and sold knives and ran the business from his bike. He sounds like the guy who started IKEA next door in Sweden.

  He eventually got a truck and started exporting his knives. According to the Minnesota video host, two guys from Minnesota asked Marttiini to make a fillet knife with a flexible blade. The knife was a big hit.  The little factory near the Arctic Circle with fewer than 50 employees has sent millions of fillet knives all over the world. In the video we see the blade grinding process, the birch handle making process, the attaching the handle to the blade process. There are plenty of machines in the factory but a lot of the work is done by hand. The factory's only robot has the job of putting the 22 degree angle on the blade. Apparently the stress of getting this right drove too many employees to drink.

  So what's with the "Made in Estonia" thing on the packaging. I googled Rapala moves fillet knife production to Estonia, hoping I'd get no hits. But I did find a story saying that in 2022 Rapala moved production to Estonia. The article did not give a reason for the move. The union shop steward at the factory said the employees were very disappointed with the outcome of the negations. Finland and Estonia have similar languages and cultures. Both peoples love the outdoors. Both have endured domination by Russia. The big difference is that Estonia has a more attractive corporate tax climate. Rapala, another Finnish outdoors company had acquired the Marttiini brand in 2005. Finland has an income tax rate near 50%. Estonia's is around 20%, yet Finns are among the two or three happiest peoples in the world. Well, maybe not the former knife factory workers.

Warranty voided if used to cut seat belts.

Some Incidents from the Life of Mark McDonnell

 Tomorrow my brother Mark turns seventy. He's the first of my brothers whose arrival I remember. I was about to turn eight. Brother Bill, my nemesis, had arrived when I was two, and Steve slipped in a couple of years later. In another six or seven years Mary-Jo would arrive.

  When I got a few years older I liked taking the subway downtown to explore and Mark was amenable to riding along. He remembers me taking him to restaurants and as soon as the water was poured and the waitress left us to peruse the menu, I would make him get up so we could sneak out of the place I had discovered was beyond my means. I only remember this happening once, or twice. I made three dollars a week from my paper route and had to watch the pennies. I've since learned to judge a place from the outside, but I recently forced Teresa to slip out of a restaurant in Venice on our most recent trip abroad.

  As our family grew I was moved to the attic. I had a finished room in which my father built a built-in bed with drawers underneath, like on a ship. With the addition of a desk and some bookshelves I had all I needed. The view over the city was great. The only bad thing was that the unfinished room adjacent had a ladder leading to a trap door down which imaginary men with knives were always climbing.

  Mark used to come up for visits and I always welcomed a break from homework. We did some creative work developing games for children. Mark would get into my bed and I would go to the landing below, cover myself in a quilt and slowly creep up the stairs making crocodile sounds. My object was to dislodge Mark from the bed but all he had to do was brace himself against the wall and kick. I couldn't see what was going on and the game would end once I received an unintentional kick to the head. That game was called "Crocodile".

  Next day we'd play "Pushing Off the Bed." In this game I'd be lying in bed doing my homework. Mark would insinuate himself between me and the wall and use his legs to push me off the bed. I would spin towards him to stay on the bed, but again, with his strong position against the wall, I always ended up on the floor.

    There was a huge expanse of woods outside Boston where I liked to go hiking. Getting there involved a couple of bus rides and a long walk. One time when Mark and I were hiking there, we came across an old guy checking his muskrat traps by a pond. My map said the pond was named Ponkapoag Pond. The trapper said the correct name was Ponkapaponkapaponkapog Pond which in Algonquin means He who runs through woods with broken leg pursued by pack of wolves.

  When we were a little older a cousin gave us a 16' sailboat, the Gull. Our father was a good carpenter and replaced a couple of rotting planks. One time Mark and I were sailing among the small islands outside Boston Harbor. I always insisted on a hot lunch so we landed on Spectacle Island, climbed to the top of the hill and then up into the old concrete lookout tower from WWII. I gathered some twigs and soon had the tomato soup heating. Just then I noticed the tide was going out under our boat. The Gull was a heavy boat for its size and if we got stranded there, it would be several hours before we got afloat again. I told Mark to watch the soup, slid out of the tower, rushed through the thick underbrush, and anchored our boat in deeper water. Mark had the soup and butter sandwiches ready when I got back.

  The tide has risen and fallen many times since those jolly days. Mark now owns an ocean going sailboat and has invited me on a cruise Down East. I expect that will happen some time in the near future and I'll stand as many watches in the galley as he likes.

Mark, second from left, at Union Oyster House, Boston. 
Happy Birthday!!