In a world gone soft, there are exceptions. There are people like you who still hike, fish, hunt, climb and tackle the tough chores like your father did. For us that’s reason enough to keep pushing, innovating, and refining our knives…

Sirs and Madams of Gerber, I say to you, bravo. I have long been searching for the affirmation that I wasn’t like the lazy, inert, 21st-Century-Digital-Boy technophiles I’ve long associated with. I, like my father, am a member of a long lost generation of jacks-of-all-trades, woodworkers, and citizens that don’t care much about the daily tribulations of rich kids residing in southern California. In short, in my ownership of your rugged, functional blades, I am finally the laudable human being I always suspected I was.

Bravo, Gerber knives for reminding me of this. Now you’ll excuse me if I return to watching a Rockford Files rerun while utilizing your fine, titanium nitride coated blade to section off pieces of cookie dough.

Good Day.

p.s. The Living can learn more about Gerber knives by visiting their website. You can read other harrowing uses of Gerber knives by visiting their customer stories page.

The Interweb isn’t much help here.

Your best bet is to either look at the first set of numbers in the lower left of one of your checks (between the multiple |: shapes) or to give in and take care of it like it’s 1985. That involves picking up the phone and enduring some personal interaction with a bank customer service agent.

I know, I know. Daunting prospect.

In case you’re interested in how these numbers aren’t randomly thrown together, feel free to investigate the wikipedia entry on Bank Routing Numbers. Stirring stuff.

Good day.

May Your Forehead Grow Like the Mighty Oak.

Good Day,

The Ghost of Rutherford Hayes