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I'd heard for some years that there was at least one old-style blade sharpener who traveled the various neighborhoods of NYC offering his services, but somehow I'd never encountered one before.
But sure enough, late this afternoon, Flo and I heard the "clang-clang" of an old bell, and we looked out the window to see the Mike's Sharpening Services truck making its way slowly down our street.
I have some old scissors I inherited from my grandfather, whom I loved dearly. They're part of a set with a letter opener and I'm very fond of them, but they've never worked very well.
So, having spotted the truck going by, I quickly dug through my "junk" drawer, found the scissors, and went running out (without a coat for fear of missing my chance).
The truck carried an older man, his son, and a friendly old dog. A sign on the truck boasted that Mike (or the fellow sharpening in his stead these days) has been in operation since 1942. The two men couldn't have been friendlier -- nor kinder in fussing over and lavishing praise on my granddad's scissors -- and for six bucks, they oiled, polished, and sharpened the blades. (I wonder, now, if I shouldn't get the handles polished, too, so they match.)
Mostly, I love being able to partake in tiny ways of life as it was once led. I feel the same kind of lift when I get my shoes shined, for example, or when I'm able to take a ride on the Nostalgia Train, as I did last month.
I've included some pics of the truck below (a couple of them regrettably blurry) and some pics of the scissors and letter opener (click on the images to see larger versions, if interested).
