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Of the basic tastes: bitter, sweet, sour and salt, the last is my lifelong favorite. I wouldn't walk a mile for a Camel, but I'd walk two for a pinch of salt.
Salt is zest. It enhances taste, stimulates appetite, awakens thirst and enlivens the character of every thing and every body it touches. Salt makes the sky bright, the sea sparkle and the air worth breathing. It is the balm that cleanses wounds, the ointment that heals them; it is a shield against parasites and the preservative that foils decay. Salt is the miracle mineral.
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| Colt Double Action Frontier Six Shooter (top) has a century's worth of stories to tell. Saltless Official Police model (bottom) has nothing to say worth hearing. |
Sixty year-old Winchester (top) is in the saltless unfired condition collectors relish. But its lightly salted contemporay (middle) and its salty ancestor (below) have much more to offer. |
But it is also a concept, a way the world views people and things to call the particularly vibrant Salty and definitely dull Saltless.
No thing, no person, is born salty. Aging gracefully is never guaranteed. They must survive the ravages of time, bent but unbroken, battered but unbeaten to emerge as proud monuments to a life well spent.
Those tucked away to save themselves, who never foray, never voyage, never trek beyond a sheltered and prudent life fail in the end. Longevity goes to those worth keeping; the worthless, lifeless and saltless are the first cast off.
Salty people and salty things tell stories worth listening to; of chances taken, places seen, deeds done, adversities overcome--lifetimes of achievement big and small that together are the salt of the earth. Saltlessness has nothing to speak of but an accumulation of small regrets.
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Proud old front loader, despite some clumsy repairs, still does its job with
buck or ball; and does it elegantly. |
Salty alligator boot (left) has outlived its original owner and probably will outlast its second. Fragile snake skin (right) won't last long enough to be worth bragging about. |
There are wannabes of course. But Teddy Kennedy is not Teddy Roosevelt. Dickie V. is not Howard Kossel. Hillary Clinton is not Eleanor Roosevelt. Jesse Jackson is not Martin Luther King. And none of the "what's her names" are Katherine Hepburn. All fail for lack of salt.
Can an Iver Johnson become as salty as a Colt, a Stevens as salty as a Winchester, a Camilus as salty as a Marble's, or a Shakespeare as salty as an Orvis? Never. They do not have the right stuff.
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Lock back Utica folder (top) lost its guard and some of its handle scale along the way. Better made MARBLE'S (below) will probably survive intact. |
Outdoor sporting goods manufacturers are beginning to see the value of salt. Classic designs and traditional materials, lightly salted right out of the box, are appearing in every line. Stainless steel, graphites and plastic have their place, but they are not nor will become salty.
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Block meerschaum pipe (left) was wonderfully salty until some numb skull scrapped away its mottled skin. But more smoking will cure it. Lightly salted Missouri corn cob (center) will color quickly, then burn out. Drug store cob (right) isn't worth putting in your mouth. |
True saltiness displays itself with the unmistakable patina of life in the midst of fray. It is toughness that, though more than skin deep, shows on imperfect surfaces like an apple skin that survived a hailstorm.
Salt is a use it or lose it element. Objects are meant to be used and people to be useful. Shelve them, shut them away, and their luster fades, their salt corrupts.
Once acquired, saltiness needs to be maintained lest it fall to corrosion and crustiness. Common sense applies. Whether it's Grandpa's gun or Grandpa himself, both need regular cleaning, lubricating, exercising and an occasional rubdown.
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| Salty old hickory shafted putter knows what I want and does it. Airhead Ping is all beauty and no brains. |
Keep them working and in working order. But never try to turn back their clocks. Saltiness is reward for battles fought. Patina is its emblem. Go ahead, freeze off a sunspot or two, tuck an eyelid, bleach a few teeth, wipe a little True Oil on a gun stock or sharpen the blade on a knife.
But hair transplants for Papa, a tummy tuck for Gram or a reblue for the old L.C. Smith will suck out their salt and leave them shamed and silly.
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| The night before opening day, Grandma shares some of her salt with her grandson, hoping tomorrow he might get some himself. |
It is easy to tell who and what is salty. It speaks for itself. But what about us? How can we know when we've reached that magic milestone? It is for others to say.
Many mornings ago, one of my students said, "You need some Retinol, Doc. You look like you got out of bed this morning and forgot to iron your face."
It is the finest compliment anyone ever paid me.
© 2007 Arni Dunathan
Arni Dunathan is the author of the newly published collector's guide "The Encyclopedia of MARBLE'S Knives and Sporting Collectables." |
