Recently, I got a package from an old friend in Montana who was diagnosed with lung cancer, which now is in his brain, and he counts every new day as a gift. In the package was a 40-year-old Kabar hunting knife that had belonged to the late Norm Strung. Norm showed him, and me, a lot of what hunting was about before he checked out. The knife was originally Norm's and he lost it on a mountain top while gutting an elk in deep snow. He told my friend that if he should happen to find it he could have it, and after the Karbar lay there all winter, that's what happened. I have it now, and I sometimes wonder who I will give it to.